


You and I (Collide)

by vintagenoise



Series: Young Volcanoes [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beach, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Artist!Dean, Childhood Friends, Classism, Crushes, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, First Kiss, Gen, Growing Up, Heteronormativity, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, POV Castiel, POV Third Person Limited, Past Child Abuse, Sexual Confusion, Slow Burn, Small Towns, Sneaking Out, Some minor violence, Summer, Underage Drinking, beach parties, nerd!dean, very slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-19 00:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 46,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1448572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintagenoise/pseuds/vintagenoise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a sudden tragedy, Castiel Milton and Dean Winchester reflect back on their youth in the beachside town of Sileas, Oregon, and all the lessons they learned on the path that led them to each other.</p>
<p>Summer, 2005: The children of the well-to-do Milton family traditionally spend their summers at a resort just outside of Sileas, Oregon, rubbing elbows with the children of senators and CEOs, attempting to uphold their family's veneer. But fifteen year-old Castiel decides he prefers the company of Dean Winchester and his friends, an odd little team of local kids who like sci-fi movies, comic books, and beach bonfires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> all my love and gratitude to [castielflowercrowns](http://castielflowercrowns.tumblr.com), [alaskasmonsters](http://alaskasmonsters.tumblr.com), and [allthebees](http://allthebees.tumblr.com) for their help and encouragement. i hope you guys stick around for the rest of this very long journey because i couldn't have done this without you :)
> 
> please check the warnings! i don't want anyone to be upset. the character death will only be mentioned in this prologue (and, in later parts, only in scenes set during or after 2010). the heteronormativity is strong in this one, to the point that even charlie isn't out yet - this will start to change with the next part of the story.
> 
> a playlist of important or setting-appropriate music can be found [here](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLLltJCC6_KG4ipyCdRyYyADeXE-rE_WHT) :)

_When your eyes are red_  
 _And emptiness is all you know_  
 _With the darkness fed  
_ _I will be your scarecrow_

\- “ **Bleeding Out,"** Imagine Dragons

 

**January 19th, 2010**

 

When Castiel hung up the phone, he had to take a few moments to allow the bad news to sink in. Dean’s voice had been soft, the words too painful to drag out beyond the facts. And what could Castiel say to try and help him feel better? Their phone conversations have never exactly been lengthy, but there was still something perfunctory about it, something that stung at Castiel’s brain.

He had told Dean he wasn’t sure he could make it to the funeral. Classes had only started yesterday, and if he wants to graduate on time, he can’t risk being dropped from any of them. It’s only as he’s seated on the couch, phone pressed to his lips, that he realizes how self-centered that line of thought is. Dean is in pain, disoriented, even if he couldn’t bring himself to say so. How could Castiel choose books and teachers over his boyfriend’s sorrow? And Mary had had an effect in Castiel’s life as well, outside of his relationship with Dean. She was an inspiration, admirable in her faith and hope and determination. Castiel wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t make time to say farewell.

Cas sighs, reaching for his laptop. That news article about the earthquake in Haiti will have to wait until after he's purchased his plane tickets.

Balthazar waltzes through the front door just as Castiel is returning his phone to his ear. Cas waves a greeting, and Balthazar returns it with a curious expression just as the ringing stops.

“Cas?” Dean sounds so tired; Castiel closes his eyes.

“I want to be there, Dean.”

A brief silence, followed by a sigh. “Cas, you got classes going on, I won’t-”

“You’re more important. You and Sam are so important, and your mother is important, and I want to be there.” Again, silence is the response, but this time it goes on for just a little too long. “Dean?”

“Okay, Cas. If you insist.” Dean sighs again. Castiel can almost see him, seated at that old wooden table in the dining room, or maybe on the blue couch by the bay window, rubbing at his face, running a hand through his hair. Castiel's heart feels heavy, an ache spreading up into his stomach and shoulders. How he wishes he could be with Dean right now, holding him and comforting him in his time of need.

“Listen," Dean continues, "I’ve got a lot going on with the funeral plans and… and people coming into town, so Bobby might have to go get you at the airport, if that’s all right.”

“That’s fine,” Castiel answers quickly. “Whatever works best for you.”

“When are you coming, then?”

Castiel opens his eyes and turns them back to his laptop. “I could be in Portland by 3pm tomorrow.”

“That soon?”

“Dean-”

“It’s just, the funeral’s not until Friday, if you have classes-”

“Dean,” Cas tries again, “I’ll be back in Sileas by dinnertime tomorrow. Do you want me to get a hotel?”

“No!” Dean answers. Cas glances up to see Balthazar still curiously watching him from the kitchen entryway. Frowning, Cas turns back to his laptop, finalizing the purchase of his plane tickets. “No, you can stay at our place, we’ve got the room.”

“I just thought, with people coming into town-”

“You’re the only one I want staying here, all right?” Dean sounds almost angry as he says it, but Castiel had expected nothing less. “There’s a new Hampton just up the street, everybody else can stay there, or go to the fucking resort or what the fuck ever. I want you under my roof.”

Cas smiles at that, and leans back into the couch. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Cas?”

“Dean?”

A crackle of static, then a soft, “Thanks.”

Castiel closes his eyes again. “Good night, Dean,” he whispers, hanging up before he can say something overly-emotional to a man who’s already straining his breaking point. They’ve rarely needed to verbalize their affection, and Castiel is afraid that if he attempts to do so now, it will only push Dean away. Even over the phone, it’s clear that Dean is barely holding himself together. Going back for the funeral is the right decision, Castiel is sure of it now.

“May I ask what the hell is going on?” Balthazar finally calls from the kitchen. He’s cooking something; Cas can smell meat, and maybe cheese, as he stands and heads for the entryway. “It’s the first week of classes and you’re taking a last-minute trip to see your poor, neglected boyfriend, is that what I heard?”

Castiel leans his head against the wall and rolls his eyes. Balthazar has never quite gotten over ‘losing’ Castiel to Dean. Though he and Castiel have become close friends since high school, Balthazar can still be somewhat passive-aggressive at times. One would think he would’ve learned after Castiel punched him for referring to Dean as ‘the poor man’s Danny Zuco,’ but apparently old wounds run deep. “Please, don’t.” Cas swallows. “His mother just died.”

Balthazar turns, a single eyebrow raised. "Really? And it was unexpected?"

"Of course it was," Castiel answers, frowning. "She was hardly 45, if I remember correctly."

"Did he tell you what happened?"

He did, but Castiel has a feeling that Dean wouldn't appreciate him sharing the story with anyone. Dean had been especially angry when Castiel decided to room with Balthazar for their junior year. He hadn't particularly cared to listen when Castiel argued that he and Balthazar had spent plenty of time sharing living spaces in boarding school. All Dean knew was that Castiel and Balthazar had slept together a few times freshman year, and while he trusted Castiel, he would probably never trust Balthazar. "It was sudden. An accident. No one could have seen it coming."

"I'm sorry." Balthazar returns to his cooking, stirring something slowly. "I mean that. I can't imagine what that must be like."

Cas runs a hand over his face, a gesture he had picked up from Dean somewhere along the way. "I'll let him know." No, he won't - Dean wouldn't appreciate pity or sorrow at this point. Maybe in a few months, once he's had time to cope and settle and not have family breathing down his neck. But not now. "Could you drop me off at the airport in the morning."

"Certainly. Are you going to eat tonight?"

"Maybe after I pack. Save some for me?"

"Of course."

Castiel turns away, picking up his laptop and phone as he heads for his room. Packing won't take him that long; he knows the winter weather in Oregon by now, how unpredictable it can be. A thick jacket, a suit, a couple t-shirts… no big deal. He’ll have to e-mail his professors before he leaves too. Hopefully they’ll understand that this is an emergency, a situation he can’t avoid. He’s had a few of them before, and is pretty sure they like him enough to work with him.

Still, Castiel sets his laptop on his desk, and flops facedown on his bed. He just needs a moment to collect himself, to fit everything back together before he has to be strong for Dean and Sam.

How life changes so suddenly. One minute you're walking down a road and can clearly see your destination ahead, and the next minute something has fallen in your way and forced you to take an unknown route where you can't see the end and are unprepared for the journey. But you have to take it anyway, because it's the only path available.

Castiel wonders, briefly, if he should have known this already. Dean has been altering his future since they met. But it's hard to notice things like that when you're 15 going on 16, confused about everything from girls to grades, and unable to see a bigger picture than what you’ll be doing this weekend. When you’re a teenager and school is out and your family is driving you crazy, but there’s moonlight and sand and an ocean stretching out as far as the eye can see.

And a scrawny, smiling boy picks you up, and his green-eyed brother takes you in, and whatever it was Castiel saw himself doing with his life before that moment, he never saw it the same way again.


	2. Summer of Youth

_Oh, when I look back now_  
 _That summer seemed to last forever_  
 _And if I had the choice_  
 _Yeah, I’d always wanna be there  
_ _Those were the best days of my life_

“ **Summer of ‘69** ” - Bryan Adams

  
  


**May 30th, 2005  
** **Memorial Day**

 

" _Are you fucking serious_?"

Castiel shares a brief, exasperated look with his little sister before she turns back to the television, and he attempts to return to his book.

"I'm going to fucking _kill you_ , Gabriel!"

A crash from upstairs makes Castiel flinch. When delighted laughter follows, he only rolls his eyes and tries to focus on his reading. The ruckus continues, so that Castiel can only manage to read the same sentence over and over again. Apparently, Anna is having the same problem; she raises the television’s volume to the point that Castiel has to turn his glare onto her. She ignores him, focused on whatever stupid music video those stupid bands she likes have put out now. Castiel sniffs, and tries to read for a moment longer, but-

"Come on, Lukey, that color looks great on you!"

"This better come out or I will fucking strangle you in your sleep!"

Castiel slams his book shut and tosses it onto the coffee table. Anna snickers, but only until Cas turns around in his seat and throws his legs into her lap. “Get off me,” she protests, pushing at his ankles. He settles in further, deliberately pushing his weight onto her.

“Big brother’s prerogative,” he teases. “I get as much of the couch as I want.”

Anna rolls her eyes, but gives up anyway. Growing up with four older brothers, and the hierarchy that comes with it, she’d learned to pick her battles long ago. It’s an older sibling’s duty to be a little annoying. But Castiel had to put up with Michael, Gabriel and Lucifer just as much as Anna did, and usually finds himself not wanting to bother her too much. He knew what it was like.

And they both knew what it was like when their brothers were all together under one roof. Castiel and Anna got along fine. Lucifer could be distant and a little haughty, but he had taken up for Castiel a few times during the past year at school, the only year they would be at school together. Michael has a similar aloofness, but as the oldest, he carries more responsibility. He's usually left to direct and discipline his siblings when their parents are absent.

It’s Gabriel who’s the troublemaker, as currently evidenced when Lucifer appears at the top of the staircase with bright pink hair and hands. Anna covers her mouth with her hand, but not before Castiel catches her smile. He doesn’t bother to hide his amusement, and leans over the back of the couch with a grin.

“That color is lovely on you, Luke,” he calls. Lucifer grips the railing when Gabriel throws an arm around his shoulder and winks down at his youngest siblings.

“That’s what I said, but I don’t think he’s-”

“Don’t. Touch. Me,” Lucifer says with a scowl, ducking out of Gabriel’s embrace. “Michael’s not going to be happy when he comes home and sees this-”

“Hey, hey, hey!” That Gabriel would immediately back down at the mention of Michael's name is a testament to their brother's authority. “It’ll come out, just wash it a few times.” Gabriel clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. “Don’t be such a drama queen. There’s nobody around here that you need to impress anyway.”

This isn’t entirely true. The Milton family visits the seaside town of Sileas, Oregon every summer, staying in their own personal bungalow at the resort just outside of town. There are several other families there that the Milton children are expected to make nice with. But with their parents gone most of the time, the Miltons rarely make it beyond pleasantries, exchanging nods and maybe a smile or two. They keep to themselves, as long as they can get away with it, and prefer it that way.

Lucifer turns away from the railing, and a door slams where Castiel can’t see. Gabriel winks at his youngest siblings before traipsing down the stairs and vaulting over the couch to join them. Water starts running upstairs, so Castiel sighs and reaches for his book, opening it again and tuning out Gabriel’s teasing Anna about her obsession with pretty band boys in eyeliner.

This is one of the good times.

 

\-----

 

But of course, there are bad times too.

No one is particularly happy about Michael’s promotion to parent, especially since he’s only twenty-one. Despite his approaching graduation and serious disposition, at the end of the day he’s only two years older than Gabriel, and they all still remember five years ago, when Michael threw up on-stage in the middle of his big choir solo.

All of the Milton children are expected to contribute to one of the family businesses once they’re done with school, and Michael is just the first to achieve those expectations. He’s also the only one who never really had issue with them. Gabriel has been studying marketing, but behind closed doors, he often expresses his disgust with the subject (though, if he’s honest with himself, Castiel finds the psychology behind the subject fascinating, is intrigued by the idea that people could be so easily defined and made predictable by their purchases alone). Lucifer is expected to study accounting, of all things, and he’s never made a secret of how stifled he feels by this decision. He picks fights with Michael or his parents as often as he has the opportunity.

It’s never pretty.

Castiel wouldn't call their family broken. Not even when his brothers snarl and scream at one another, not even with their parents so often absent. They've always managed to figure things out and stick together.

But sometimes, he can't help worrying that the way Michael and Lucifer fight, with teeth bared and claws drawn, will permanently damage their family. Leave them scarred and broken. It's possible that Lucifer's threats to leave are just bluster from an arrogant boy, that Michael's taunts to go ahead are the same, but Castiel dreads the day may come that he wakes up to find his brother lost.

He and Lucifer are hardly close, but the truth is, when Castiel started ninth grade, he had struggled to find his place in a new hierarchy. The boarding school they attended split the youngest students from the oldest, and throwing a quiet, studious boy like Castiel in with the rowdy upperclassmen was like throwing a lamb to the wolves.

But Lucifer, a senior then, had taken up for his younger brother. Introduced him to important friends, led him to study groups, and even encouraged him to try for track and field. As a freshman, Cas could only make second string, but he plans to practice and run every day this summer, and impress everyone come August. And that's all thanks to Lucifer.

But Michael has been a patriarchal presence in Castiel’s life ever since their father’s first novel became a bestseller and led to his increased absence in their lives. Their mother has always been in and out; her brother is a well-known televangelist preacher, and she took up the mantle of manager around the time Lucifer was born, so Castiel and Anna can’t remember a time where she spent more than a few days with them before flying off to Uncle Zach’s next film location. Michael is the one who ensures they haven’t died or hurt one another during the day, who has control over the money their parents allow them to use for fun and for food, as well as their college funds. It’s true, that sometimes the power goes to his head, but it’s better than having no one at all.

So maybe their family is a little messed up, but at least they’re not completely broken. At least they’re all still together. And if Castiel has to spend his nights locked away in his room to get away from the fighting, then maybe that’s a fair price to pay.

Tonight, however, is turning out to be particularly unbearable. Anna, who usually finds company with Castiel during the blow-outs, has just retreated to her room, and Cas can hear Kelly Clarkson singing faintly through the wall they share. Hopefully, the music is keeping Anna from hearing most of the arguing; tonight has moved beyond veiled threats and into genuinely cruel insults, and Cas is pretty sure he just heard a plate smashing against a hard surface. Which is really just going to infuriate their mother, seeing as they don’t own any of the basic furniture in the bungalow.

This is probably why it takes a few moments before Castiel realizes that he is actually hearing that knocking noise. He sets his book aside and goes to open the door just enough to peer out. “Gabriel?”

“Hey, kid,” Gabe’s voice is unusually soft, but he attempts to smile. “Want to get out of here?”

“It’s past 11,” Cas responds. “Mother will be-”

“Mom’s not here,” Gabriel says with a roll of his eyes. “Who knows if she’ll even be back tonight, and Mike’s too preoccupied to notice.”

‘Preoccupied’ is a kind way to put it, as something wooden, a table or chair, clatters against the kitchen floor. Castiel bites his lower lip. “Where are you going to go?”

Gabriel shrugs, and they both wince at the sound of another smashed plate. “Anywhere but here. I’ll give you a ride into town, and then we can split up and do whatever.” In the kitchen, Michael is yelling about adulthood and responsibility, and Castiel cringes.

“Will you take me to the beach?”

This suggestion is met with a frown. “The one in town? That’s covered in trash and full of local yokels, you could just go to the one right here-”

“I’d probably still be able to hear them.”

More smashed glass in the kitchen, and a wordless yell from Michael stops any further protests from Gabriel. “All right, come on, I’ll drop you off.”

Castiel pulls his shoes on before following Gabriel out the door, across the grass yard, and towards the resort’s parking lot. Gabriel leads the way to Michael’s car, which brings Cas up short. “He’s going to be so angry with you if he finds out-”

“Don’t care right now,” Gabe snaps, “are you in or out?”

Castiel holds his breath for a moment, glancing back towards the field of little bungalows, their own just out of sight. He can’t even think of anything he could do to entertain himself while he waits for the sun to rise and his brothers to stop fighting, but anything is better than sitting in the same house as they verbally tear each other apart. “In,” he breathes, and slips into the passenger side.

The drive is short and quiet, outside of Gabriel’s anxious tapping against the steering wheel, which Castiel finds easy to ignore. Quaint and worn-down little houses start appearing on the side of the road almost as soon as they’re outside the resort’s property, buildings with broken porches and faded paint and twenty year-old cars out front. Trees, green and lush, reach for the sky, backing away and up the hill as the town forms around the main road. There’s only about five miles between the resort and the town; Castiel had run it their first afternoon here, to determine a good route to run as he built up his endurance for the track and field team, and had figured taking the main road to the opposite end of town and back would be best.

“Are you sure you want me to drop you off at the beach here?” Gabriel says, startling Castiel out of his reverie. “‘Cause I’m starting to consider taking a trip out to Portland, and you could come with. We could even go back and get Anna real quick.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “You’re not really going to Portland.”

“Maybe I will. If I leave you at the beach, how would you know?”

“Because you wouldn’t really abandon me at the beach.” Castiel smiles to himself, sitting up straighter as Gabe pulls the car towards the curb. “Though, if you really do want to go, you should know that I have no problems running back home in the morning.”

Gabriel raises an eyebrow, then shrugs and shakes his head. “I might just go down to the Best Western and get a room to sleep in.”

“That’s not the party animal I know.”

“You’re not supposed to have a sense of humor, kid,” though Gabriel smiles anyway. “Now get out of my car.”

Castiel does as he’s told, and waves before he takes off down the dunes, stumbling a little as the sand grips his shoes and tries to drag him down. The beach is full of debris, but not necessarily trash, and despite the late hour, there's still a few people out and about. There's a couple to his left, cuddling under the stars; a jogger heading south, just outside the ocean's reach, and to his right, he can see the glow of a bonfire, young voices and loud music spreading across the sand.

Castiel takes a deep breath and drops to the ground, pulling his shoes off and setting them aside before leaning over his knees and staring out at the horizon. It's a pleasant night, just this side of cool, and clear enough that Cas can see constellations stretching out over the ocean. It's windy, of course, but not unbearably so, and the refreshing smell of salt is everywhere.

Cas runs a hand through his hair, then flops down on his back. Maybe he should have brought his book; it's actually quiet enough out here that he might be able to get farther than a few pages at a time. The only sound is coming from that group of kids and their bonfire, and that's faint and perhaps even a little pleasant: laughter and song is far preferable to yelling and broken glass. Lacing his fingers behind his head, Castiel watches the stars and tries not to think about his antagonistic brothers, about his absent parents, about how they might all have a happy vacation if they all actually took one. But Father never stops working, and while Mother usually heads west with her children, she takes Michael and they continue working for her brother during the day, and Michael is usually the only one home before dinner. How long will that last? Gabriel is next, how long until he becomes just as stiff and obedient as Michael? Castiel actually smiles to himself, trying to imagine any incarnation of Gabriel that might resemble Michael. It's hard to picture, Gabe in a black suit talking about demographics and projections and budgets.

Is it truly so inevitable? Does their entire family have to fall in line to stay together?

Is that a price worth paying?

Castiel still doesn't know what his place in the family business will be, but he's resigned himself to it for so long that he can't imagine doing anything else. He likes reading, and he likes running, but what kind of career can be made from-

"Shit!"

Something digs into Castiel's side, then falls across his stomach, flashing pain that forces him to sit up with a yelp. It's a scrawny boy, with dark hair falling into his eyes, and he accidentally steps on Castiel's fingers as he attempts to right himself.

"Shit," the boy says again, softer this time, as Cas winces and brings his hand protectively to his chest. "I'm so sorry, man, I didn't see you, I swear, I'm sorry." They manage to right themselves, and the boy reaches to pick up the frisbee he must have been chasing when he tripped. "Seriously, sorry."

Castiel opens his mouth to respond, but is cut off by another voice, a girl yelling, "What the hell did you do, Sammy?"

"Shut up!" The boy snaps back, a blush creeping up his neck as he turns back to Cas. He's anxiously turning the frisbee in his fingers, his dark hair floating in the breeze. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, I think," Cas finally answers, getting to his feet and brushing sand off his clothes before lifting up his shirt and prodding at the flesh the boy - Sam? - had kicked. "It might bruise, but I think I'll live."

Sam winces sympathetically and softly apologizes again. "I-... Hey, are you out here by yourself?"

Castiel blinks at him, then nods.

"Why?"

A shrug is the only answer Cas feels comfortable giving.

"D' you wanna come hang out with us?"

Cas peers over the boy's head at the crowd of kids around the bonfire. A skinny blonde girl is standing just outside the circle, watching them with her hands on her hips. "I'm not sure... How old are you?"

"Eleven," Sam answers, and Castiel starts to say no, because an evening alone has to be better than hanging out with a group of children, but Sam continues, "But there's a bunch of us there. My brother's fifteen, so y'know, we're all different ages."

Oh. Panic shoots through Castiel at the thought of hanging out with local kids, what his mother would say, but he shakes it off and gives Sam a small smile. "Okay."

Sam grins back, wide and cheerful, then gestures for Castiel to follow him. Cas grabs his shoes, before doing so. "I'm Sam, if by some miracle you didn't hear Jo," Sam says. “And I’m guessing you’re a tourist?”

“That’s correct,” Castiel answers, falling into step next to the boy. “My name’s Castiel.”

Sam turns to him with an eyebrow raised, then grins. “That’s a weird name.”

“My mother comes from a religious family, and my father has found he enjoys angel lore. Thus, myself and all of my siblings are named after angels.”

A spark of genuine interest lights in Sam’s eyes, but before he can ask, the blonde girl has joined them, taking the frisbee from Sam’s hands and ruffling his hair before teasing, “Didn’t your brother teach you how to catch?”

“There’s a reason I’m not a goalie,” Sam shoots back, ducking away from her touch. “Jo, this is Castiel.” He slows the pronunciation, watching Cas’s reaction to ensure he says it right. “Cas, Jo.”

Castiel holds out a hand for her to shake, but she doesn’t take it, eyeing him up instead. She’s a little taller than he is, and pretty, if one can excuse her rudeness. She purses her lips and tosses her ponytail off her shoulder. “A tourist, Sam? Really? Have I taught you nothing?”

“Hey!” Sam snaps, and Castiel feels a sudden rush of affection at the boy’s adorable pout. “Dean and I have only been here for a year, and you’re always telling us we don’t count as locals yet!”

“Yeah, but at least you’ve been here long enough that you’re on your way to it!”

Sam opens his mouth again, but Castiel clears his throat and gives Jo a small smile. “I’ve been coming here with my family every summer, as long as I can remember. So technically, I’ve been in Sileas longer than Sam has.” His smile widens as he turns it towards Sam, who laughs softly and shakes his head.

“It’s pronounced ‘shuh-lees.’”

“Excuse me?”

“The town.” When Jo starts to giggle, Sam shoves her gently. She bites her lip and shrugs, eyes darting between the boys. “It’s okay, Jo used to give us shit about it all the time, since she actually grew up here. ‘Shuh- _lees_ ,’ not ‘suh- _lee_ -us.’”

Castiel blinks at them for a moment longer, contemplating this. Everyone at the resort pronounces the town’s name the same way he does, but considering so few of them actually go out and converse with the locals, there’s a definite chance that something has been missed along the way. “Oh. I apologize.”

Jo cuffs him on the shoulder and rolls her eyes. “Don’t sweat it, happens to a lot of tourists. Though I’m a little surprised I’ve never seen you around before.” At Castiel’s confused stare, she nods her head towards the main road, and continues: “My mom owns the Roadhouse, just up there. Anybody who stays longer than a week usually heads our way at least once, since there aren’t many other dining options.” She pauses, then grins cheekily. “And we have our own microbrewery, but that’s a whole other thing.”

“Hey!” They all turn at the new voice, belonging to the small, dark-haired girl stumbling towards them. Sam suddenly blushes pink, tugging the frisbee up in an attempt to hide his face when she reaches them. “Did you guys want s’mores or not? Charlie and Andy are getting antsy!” She glances up at Castiel, assessing him before adding, “He can come too, we got the jumbo bag of marshmallows. C’mon!” And just like that, she’s grabbed Sam’s hand and dragged him back towards the bonfire. Castiel raises an eyebrow and glances at Jo, who rolls her eyes again.

“Sam’s had a crush on Sarah since August, but he won’t do anything about it.” She hooks her arm through Castiel’s, leading him down the same path Sarah took, his bare feet covering the smaller prints made by Sam.

“Aren’t they a little young to be… doing anything?” Castiel asks, which makes Jo laugh.

“They could go to the Roadhouse and share a milkshake. My mom would probably even let them have it for free, since she loves Sam so much.”

Jo carefully steps over a pile of bags and clothing, with Castiel following her example, and suddenly they’re in the midst of at least a dozen other people. As promised, there are a few other children Sam’s age, but the rest appear to be teenagers. Jo sticks two fingers in her mouth and whistles, loud enough that Castiel drops her arm to cover his ears. It’s only when she grins at him that he realizes they have everyone’s attention, and he drops his hands again, fidgeting under their curious eyes.

“Everybody, this is Cas,” Jo says, gesturing to him. “He’s a tourist, but he seems okay. For now.” The last words carry a bit of a threat, and Castiel tries not to shrink under it. “I’ve gotta get back to DJ’ing, but you can go hang out with Charlie over there, and she’ll take care of you.” Jo claps him on the back, hard enough to send him stumbling forward, though he tries to cover it by pretending he was heading towards the red-haired girl on the other side of the fire pit.

“Are you Charlie?” Castiel asks her, and she nods, smiling brightly as she pats the empty sand beside her. He takes the seat, carefully setting his shoes aside, and smiles back. “I’m sorry if I’m intruding on your party.”

Charlie shrugs. “Not that we need the excuse, but it’s Memorial Day. I guess if you’re an American, you’re welcome.” She frowns, bringing a fist up under her chin. “This _is_ one of those hunky-dory America-Fuck-Yeah holidays, isn’t it?”

“I… I suppose?” For a strange moment, they just stare at each other. It’s only broken when Charlie starts to laugh.

“Peepers like yours could make a girl swoon, Cas,” she says with a wink. “So tell me all about yourself, what do you watch, what do you read, what do you listen to-”

“‘What do you think about in the shower?’” mocks the dark-haired boy who takes the seat on Castiel’s other side, just close enough that Castiel has to scoot away, almost into Charlie’s space. Charlie snorts, taking a stick when the new boy shakes a few at her.

“Wow, I am in awe of your flirting techniques, Dean. Now I know why you’re still a virgin.”

Dean rolls his eyes, offering a stick to Castiel and winking when he takes it. “Don’t pester the kid, he’ll run away and never come back.”

“And that would just break your heart,” Charlie shoots back, clutching her chest as if in pain.

“More gay jokes, Charlie? Aren’t you just so hilarious, it’s like you’re a female Dane Cook.”

“Oh please, I’m way funnier than that douche.” She grins, stretching her arms over her head before returning her attention to Cas. “So are you gonna answer my questions three, or do I have to slay you?”

“Slay me?” Cas repeats, frowning. “Why would you-”

Dean nudges him with his shoulder. “Psst. She’s kidding. Charlie thinks that she can know everything she wants to know about a person based on their likes and dislikes." He brings out a bag of marshmallows, tearing at the plastic until it opens, and he can spear one with his stick. "She's not entirely off base with that, though."

"What do you mean?" Castiel asks, taking the bag when it's offered, choosing his own marshmallow before handing the bag to Charlie. "A person's interests can be varied and occur for reasons even they don't understand." He turns to Charlie, who has a raw marshmallow in her mouth while another is blackening in the bonfire. "If I told you A Clockwork Orange is my favorite film, would you begrudge me because the lead character's a deviant?"

"Deviant's too kind a word," Charlie responds, her mouth still full. "And you're thinking about this too hard."

"It's simpler than that," Dean agrees. "It's more like... When I met Charlie in English this year, she was wearing a Red Shirt. And that was all I needed to know to know I wanted to be her friend."

Castiel frowns. "What does the color of her shirt have to do with anything? Ow!" He turns back to Charlie when she slaps his shoulder. "What?!"

"From Star Trek? Please tell me you've seen Star Trek."

"I can't say I have," Castiel sniffs, still rubbing his shoulder where she'd hit him. But Charlie only gapes at him, her mouth open wide.

"Dude," she gasps finally, "I really want to like you, so you better start giving me reasons to."

Castiel turns to Dean, who pops a browned marshmallow in his mouth before defensively putting his hands up. "Don't look at me, I'm with her on this."

Castiel sighs, finally putting his own marshmallow into the fire. "I don't watch a lot of TV," he says sullenly, drawing his knees up to his chest. Dean seems to sense his discomfort, because he puts a hand on Cas's shoulder, smiling when Cas turns to look at him.

"So? We're all nerds here, y'know? Just, there's different kinds of nerds. Charlie's a bit of a jack of all trades, but she prefers anything sci-fi or fantasy. Ash?" Dean gestures towards where Jo is sitting with another boy, his hair cut in a fashion Castiel has only seen in 80s movies. "He's a genius. Builds computers for fun. I've never seen a piece of technology beat him yet. Now listen."

It's only now, with the lull in conversation  that Castiel realizes there's still music playing; he had heard it when Gabriel dropped him off, but now he's close enough to actually listen to it, to realize...

"I know this song," Castiel says quietly. It had been all over the radio for months, and even though Castiel doesn't particularly care for radio, Anna had taken to the band quite fiercely. "But I've never heard it like this before."

"Jo's a music geek," Dean says. "She wants to be a DJ, and does all her own remixes. She even wrote a few original songs!”

Charlie smiles, and points across the fire, where a dark-haired girl is playing cards with a boy who looks close to Castiel’s age, and yet is skinnier than Sam, possibly because he seems to have already hit his growth spurt. “Pam and Garth over there? Pam’s a psychic. She can read tarot cards, it’s uber-creepy, and Garth, he’s a student volunteer at the hospital on the weekends.”

“I don’t find that to be particularly nerdy,” Castiel comments with a frown. Charlie just shrugs.

“Diff’rent strokes.”

Dean jumps in again, shaking Castiel’s shoulder. “So y'know, whatever you're in to? You're in to. And we're not going to judge."

Castiel studies Dean, eyes narrowed, as he retrieves his marshmallow. "What are you in to?" He asks before popping it into his mouth.

"Me?" Dean colors slightly, turning away from Castiel's gaze. "Comic books." He clears his throat, focusing on his latest marshmallow. "Now you, Cas."

Castiel has to take a moment to think about it. 'Nerd' and 'geek' are words his brothers and classmates would apply to him, but not that he would necessarily apply to himself. Especially now that he's taken to track so well. "I like math," he says thoughtfully, “and literature.”

“Math is definitely geeky,” Charlie mumbles, her mouth full of marshmallow again. “But what kind of literature?”

“I’m currently reading _Brave New World_.”

Charlie cocks an eyebrow, but Dean’s head pops up, eyes wide and interested. “What do you think of it?” He asks excitedly.

Cas shrugs. “It’s interesting. The protagonist shift midway through was a little jarring, but mostly I find it interesting in comparison to other dystopian novels.”

“Like _1984_ ,” Dean says with a smile. “They’re both such different takes on a possible future, written almost twenty years apart, and yet we see elements of them both within our own society.”

Castiel can’t help smiling back at him. “I thought you were a comic book geek.”

Dean blushes again, and awkwardly waves a hand in the air. "I like to read. Comics, how-to, classic lit, whatever."

Charlie snorts, shaking her head. "He aced English Lit, okay? They're already trying to recruit him for AP his junior year, so don't let him sell himself short here." When Dean frowns, she scowls back at him. "I've told you a million times, Dean: I'm not Alastair. You don't have to play dumb to impress me."

The two glare at each other until Castiel clears his throat. He figures it's best to direct them off this subject, and says, "Give me a place to start if I want to be a geek like you guys."

Dean blinks, and Charlie starts to giggle. "Have you got all night?" She jokes.

"Probably." Castiel grins.

And the three of them get caught up in a discussion of wizards and hobbits, timelords and vulcans, vampire hunters and jedis, mutants and heroes. Castiel is familiar with some of what they’re talking about, though not enough to satisfy Charlie and Dean, who start making plans for days-long movie marathons to introduce Castiel to their favorite things. Dean is a Batman fan, and gushes about Tim Sale's artwork until Charlie teases him about having a crush on the man. But Dean's embarrassment only lasts until he remembers Charlie's idolization of Hermione Granger. However much the rest of the conversation has gone over his head, Castiel is at least familiar with the Harry Potter series, so he joins in the teasing, until the two boys together have left Charlie demanding to talk about anything else, her face almost as red as her hair.

“I finally started reading that book series Becky is always talking about,” she offers, pulling her hair behind her ears. Castiel laughs at Dean’s dramatically disgusted face, and Charlie rolls her eyes. “It’s not as incesty as she makes it out to be. It’s actually pretty interesting, and the mythology is more solid than I would've expected."

Dean is still overreacting, so Castiel asks, “What series is this?”

“ _Supernatural_ , by Carver Edlund. Have you ever heard of it?”

Castiel freezes, though he quickly tries to cover for his reaction before either of his new friends notices. It isn’t that hard to believe that he might meet people who have read his father’s work, now that it has a new marketing machine behind it. Now that there’s shirts and toys available, on top of the TV show in development, his father’s fanbase has been growing exponentially, and of course people like Dean and Charlie would be aware of the series. And not for the first time, Castiel is grateful that his father opted to use a pseudonym. “It sounds familiar," he lies. "What’s it about?”

“Two brothers who travel across the country and fight monsters. Totally Americana, totally creepy,” Charlie answers, though Castiel already knew that. “There’s something going on that has to do with hell but I don’t really know what it is yet, just that it has to do with the younger brother. I’m not caught up with the books yet though.”

Castiel takes a deep breath, nodding. “That does sound interesting.”

“Just don’t turn into Becky and we’ll be okay,” Dean says dismissively. “Not to change the subject or anything, but you should check that out,” and he gestures over his shoulder. Down by the water, two small figures are standing close together, hands clasped. The taller shadow leans into the other’s face, and Dean is practically beaming. “That’s my boy.”

“Did Sam finally make a move?” Charlie sounds delighted, and Castiel glances at her, frowning.

“Seriously, aren’t they a little young-”

Dean backhands Castiel’s shoulder and rolls his eyes. “It’s not like they’re sucking face or anything! Shit, it’s a little hand-holding, don’t be a prude.”

Castiel bristles, and starts to defend himself when he looks back at Sam and Sarah’s silhouettes and notices the skyline turning pink. “... It’s dawn?”

Dean raises an eyebrow, and chuckles when he follows Castiel’s gaze. “Looks like. We partied all night long again, Charlie.”

But she doesn’t respond, because she’s already up helping Jo and Ash pack speakers into black cases, and Castiel pulls his phone out of his pocket, flipping it open. There’s a text from Gabriel, sent somewhere around the same time Dean was explaining what the Millennium Falcon was. _Got a room. I’ll deal with Michael later. Run home if you don’t want to do the same_. “Shit,” Castiel whispers as he stands, “I have to go.”

“What’s your rush?” Dean asks with a frown, though he gets up as well, brushing sand off his khaki shorts. “Did you sneak out or something?”

“Sort of?” Castiel hurries to get a few stretches in, though he already knows that he’s risking some pain, running that far after sitting stiff for so long. “My brother will be furious if he finds out I was gone all night.” Not just gone, but hanging out with townie kids. “God, but he’ll already be up getting ready, and I just-”

“Hey.” A steady hand grabs each of his shoulders, and Castiel glances up to see Dean standing a lot closer than he was just a moment ago. “Relax. The Best Western’s right there, if you run-”

“I’m not staying at the Best Western.”

Dean frowns; in the rising sunlight, Castiel realizes Dean’s eyes are a light summer green, and his face is covered in sun-kissed freckles. “Then where are you staying?”

And for the first time, it occurs to Castiel that none of his newfound friends even considered that he might be from such a different world.

“The resort,” Castiel answers quietly. Dean’s green eyes go wide before his hands drop.

“Oh. When you said tourist, I thought…” Dean rolls his shoulders, carefully schooling a grin back on his face. “Okay, never mind, no big deal. Do you want a ride?” When Cas doesn’t respond, Dean tilts his head towards the bike rack on the sidewalk. “Sam rides on the back of my bike all the time, you’ll be fine.”

“We’re going on the highway, isn’t that a little dangerous?”

Dean sighs, grabbing Castiel’s wrist and dragging him up the dune. “It’s like 5am, there’s no one out right now, don’t be a pussy.” When they pass the others, Dean waves cheekily. “Jo, can your mom take Sam home?”

“Why can’t you?” Jo zips up another speaker, then leans over it to glare at Dean, who releases Cas’s wrist just to throw that arm around his shoulder.

“Gonna take Cas home instead.”

Jo cocks an eyebrow. Castiel stares at Dean instead, wondering when they became close enough to be this tactile. They’ve only  known each other a few hours, but Dean is acting like they’ve been friends for years. Then Castiel remembers that Jo and Charlie had been touchy as well: Jo had hooked their arms together, Charlie had felt no qualms about hitting him, hadn’t shied away from how close he was sitting. Maybe that’s just what people are like outside the stuffy confines of boarding school. So when Jo moves towards him, hugs him tight enough to make him grunt, he lets her do so, and even manages to smile when she eyes him.

“We’re gonna work on you,” Jo promises, her eyes serious. “Make you one of us.”

“I look forward to it,” Cas says, and is a little surprised by how much he means it. He genuinely likes these people, and hopes he might be able to sneak out and see them again.

“Come by the Roadhouse sometime and I’ll get you a milkshake,” she says with a wink. Behind her, Charlie salutes. Castiel waves at them both, then follows Dean back to the sidewalk.

“Jo likes you,” Dean points out in a sing-song, smirking.

“So does Charlie.” Castiel shrugs. “Sorry for stealing your girls.”

The smirk drops from Dean’s face. “What?”

“It’s the eyes, I think,” Castiel continues, nodding solemnly. “Girls can’t resist blue eyes.”

Dean side-eyes him for a moment, then laughs, straddling his bike. “Your humor’s going to take some getting used to. Hop on.” Castiel hesitates, and Dean sighs. “You sit, I’ll stand, let’s fucking go.”

Castiel runs his hands through his hair, then does as Dean asks. It’s hardly comfortable, and he grips the seat under his thighs to keep his balance as Dean starts to pedal.

At least the road between Sileas and the resort is fairly flat, or else Castiel’s not sure how they would manage this. Dean might do this with Sam on a regular basis, but Sam is a skinny eleven year-old; Castiel is wiry but still mostly muscle, and a few months shy of sixteen. The bike is still faster than running, but only barely. “I’m heavier than Sam,” Castiel says quietly. “It’s okay, I can run.” Dean grunts.

“Shut up, I’m gonna make it.”

Castiel bites his lip, and grips the seat tighter as the bike wobbles.

By the time they reach the gate, Dean is sweating, and Castiel thinks that Dean needs to work on his endurance if this is going to become a regular thing. “Okay, you made it, you can let me off now. Thanks for the ride.”

Dean stops, dropping his feet to the ground and twisting to watch as Cas slides off the seat. “Can I walk you to your room?”

Castiel raises an eyebrow. “Why would you want to do that?”

“I’ve never been to the resort. Can’t a guy be curious?” Dean flashes a smile, and Castiel sighs.

“Fine. Come on.”

They walk through the parking lot, one on each side of the bike. Dean is so preoccupied with the various expensive cars that the only reason he doesn't walk into one is because Cas grabs the bike's handlebars and steers them in another direction.

"Don't you live up there?" Dean asks, pointing towards the multi-story sandstone building, where valets in suits wait outside the door. Castiel shakes his head.

"It's my mother, my siblings, and me, so six of us altogether. Those rooms aren't big enough. We stay in a bungalow by the beach, like the other big families." He lifts the front wheel of the bike over the curb, leading Dean behind the building. "Though sometimes the bungalow doesn't seem big enough either," he adds under his breath.

Dean laughs. "Six of you? I can see why you ran off."

Not entirely, but it's a start. Castiel decides not to delve into the more troublesome aspects of his family just yet.

They walk through the grass in silence instead, though Castiel's mind is buzzing with questions for Dean. What it's like to live here year-round, if he plays any sports as intensely as he recites Star Wars trivia, what his family is like, who his other friends are... But he's not sure he's ready to answer questions like those himself. Not to mention, Dean seems somewhat anxious, constantly pausing to run his foot over the indentation left in the grass by the bike's tires.

"I'm glad I met you," Castiel manages to say, as they make their way behind the short line of houses. Dean glances at him, and laughs slightly.

"You just come out and say it, don't you," He murmurs. "Well then, hey, same to you, buddy."

"No, I mean it." And though Castiel doesn't feel ready to talk about his family with Dean, he does want to say this before he loses his chance. "I've been coming here with my family every year, and every year I just spend time with my siblings, bored out of my head. There are other kids here," he gestures at the surrounding houses, towards the towering sandstone building, "but they're either gone within a few weeks, or they're entitled jerks who want to bully you as much as they want to suck up to your family."

Dean actually stops walking and looks at Castiel, who returns the favor by meeting Dean's eyes as he continues, "Within a few hours, you and your friends made me feel more accepted than I have ever felt in my many years here. So thank you."

Dean's cheeks turn rosy, his freckles rising to prominence. "That's... Well. You're welcome, I guess." They start walking again, Dean staring at his feet. "Does that mean we won't see you again? 'Cause Charlie and I were kinda serious about those movie marathons. Hate to let you go back into the world without seeing Lord of the Rings." When Castiel looks up at him, Dean is grinning again, though his cheeks are still pink.

"I'm... I would certainly like to see you all again. If you'll have me." As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Dean has his phone out and is shaking it in Castiel's direction. "What-"

"Put your number in there. I'll text you after I get a couple hours sleep, and we can figure out when to hang out again."

It's a cheap little flip phone, the blue paint chipped and flaked, and it takes Castiel a moment to figure out how to program his number into it. He hands it back as soon as he's done, and Dean's smile is glowing in the morning light.

"You're gonna be a Goonie by August, Cas," Dean says with a laugh.

Castiel redirects the bike again, taking them between two identical bungalows before asking, "A Goonie?"

"Yeah," and Dean is speaking far too loudly considering the time of day, the proximity of the houses, but Castiel finds that he really doesn't care. "It's a little cheesy, but Astoria's only a couple hours from here, and we're just a bunch of misfits ourselves... Wait." Dean groans at Castiel's mystified expression. "Don't tell me you've never seen _Goonies_ either."

"Okay, I won't tell you."

"That's first on the list. Charlie can sit on her Lord of the Rings box set, we're getting you through _Goonies_ first, all right?"

"All right." Honestly, Castiel couldn't care less what they watch. He's just delighted that plans are being made, that Dean has his phone number, and there's a chance that he may actually have made a few friends this year.

He's so delighted, in fact, that he doesn't notice Michael standing on the tiny front porch until he hears his name being called. And his smile drops like a brick as he turns to face his brother, who looks surprisingly put-together, considering how early it is. "Michael," Castiel manages to say, manages to smile again, "I wasn't expecting you to be up so early."

"Well, I wasn't expecting to find two of my brothers missing when I woke up," Michael shoots back, "so it looks like this morning's full of surprises for everyone." His eyes dart to Dean, and Castiel suddenly remembers that, for all Dean's intentions, no matter how much they actually want to be friends, if Michael says no, then their mother says no, and Castiel will be left with his books and his siblings for the rest of the summer. Panic runs through him at the thought of losing these people before he really even has them, and Castiel lets go of Dean's bike.

"This is Dean," Castiel says, impressed by the steadiness in his own voice. "I found him and his friends at the beach, and nothing bad happened, I swear."

"The beach," Michael repeats, "do you mean this beach, or do you mean you and Gabriel disappeared into town without even leaving a note. What if Mother had come home? She would be worried sick, if she knew."

Castiel can feel Dean's eyes on him, but he doesn't turn away from Michael; that would only make things worse. "I know, I'm sorry, we just... We just needed a break."

"I have high hopes for you, Castiel," Michael continues. "You do so well in school, you always listen when Mother or I need your help. I was willing to let you continue your extracurricular activities, but if it's just going to make you behave like this, then maybe I'll have to talk to Mother about letting you back on the track team in the fall."

It's flawed logic and a poor play on his emotions, Castiel knows, but he can't help panicking at the thought of not being allowed to run with his team next year. "No! No, that won't be necessary."

"Good. We don't want you to turn out like Luke, do we?"

Maybe, Castiel thinks defiantly, but even if he might be jealous of Lucifer's ability to stand up to their brother, he doesn't want to draw the same ire towards himself. He doesn’t want to contribute to the growing crack in his family’s veneer. "No. Of course not."

"Good." Michael nods. "Say good-bye to your friend, Castiel. We'll finish this discussion at dinner tonight." He turns to the door, then pauses with just the right amount of dramatics. "Oh, and you'll still be expected to be up at 8 to help Anna around the house before the Talbots come for lunch, so... Don't take too long with Dean."

As soon as the door shuts behind Michael, Dean lets out a shrill noise of frustration. Castiel finally looks at him and realizes just how red his face is. "Dean, I'm sorry you had to-"

"Your brother is a righteous dick," Dean snaps, again far too loud for the time of day, let alone the possibility that Michael might still be just on the other side of the front door. "That is your brother, right? Jesus Christ, what a fucking dick."

Castiel only just keeps himself from laughing. "Yes, my oldest brother, Michael. He looks after us while Mother and Father are busy."

"Yeah, well, he's a dick," and Dean seems to be genuinely worked up, rubbing a hand over his face before gripping his handlebars so tightly his knuckles turn white. "Are all your siblings like that?"

"No. Well..." Gabriel has a tendency to be a bit of a bully, not to mention his pranks. Lucifer is arrogant and kind of a killjoy. And Anna is a 13 year-old girl, who listens to her silly music too loud and watches too much trash TV. "It's complicated."

Dean glares at him for a moment longer, then straddles his bike. "I'm still gonna call you later," he says, his jaw twitching with defiance. "And we're gonna watch movies all summer, I don't give a fuck."

"Dean," and Castiel has to pause, has to try and think of a way to have this conversation without sounding like he actually believes in what he’s saying, “Dean, did you hear Michael? The _Talbots_ are coming to ours for lunch. As in, Senator Talbot, from Massachusetts? My family spends time with very important people, and I’m expected to do so as well.”

Dean’s green eyes narrow. “You sayin’ I’m not important?”

Castiel’s already fucked this up. Maybe there never was a way to avoid it. “No, I’m saying… I meant what I said before. I appreciate what you’ve done, and I really do want to spend the summer watching movies with you and Charlie and Jo, but…” He struggles to think of the words, and sighs. “I like you guys. My family won’t.”

“So?” Dean rolls his eyes. “You snuck out last night, who’s to stop you from doing it again? You shouldn’t let your family dictate your entire life for you. Besides, you said Talbot?” He smirks. “As in, Bela Talbot?”

Castiel thinks about it for a moment, trying to remember anything about the senator’s daughter. “I think that’s her name?” She’s around Castiel’s age, genuinely pretty and attending an expensive British boarding school, so of course his family had tried to push them together last year. Unfortunately, she had also been just as pompous as any other resident Castiel had ever met, and the two of them hadn’t hit it off very well. “Why?”

“She’s not too important to go hanging out with my friends in the woods on warm nights,” Dean says in a sing-song, then laughs at Castiel’s confused expression. “I remember her from last summer. She used to sneak out and drink with us in the woods behind the school. All things considered, I never would’ve guessed she was a senator’s daughter.”

Castiel tilts his head in confusion. “You guys drink?”

“What? Oh!” Dean turns away, running a hand through his hair. “I meant my other friends. Not Jo and everyone you’ve met. Other people.”

Castiel squints thoughtfully. “You drink?”

“Only with them. Look, this isn’t what I was talking about.” Dean shakes his head, testing his balance on the bike. “I just wanted to make a point about standing up to your family. If Bela can sneak out and run around and get in trouble, why can’t you?"

And it's a good point, all concerns about Dean's behavior aside. Castiel sighs, rubbing his eyes. "I'll try."

"You better." Dean claps Castiel's shoulder and grins. "I'll see you 'round, Cas."

He waves before taking off through the grass, apparently no longer concerned about the trail left by his bike tires. Castiel chuckles to himself as he watches Dean go, then turns to head back into the bungalow. It's been a long, exciting night. A couple hours of sleep are better than none, especially when he's facing an afternoon with Bela Talbot.

  
  


**May 31st, 2005**

Dean calls that afternoon, as promised. Unfortunately, it's while Castiel is sitting in the kitchen with Bela, watching her fix her make-up. He'd rather be doing anything else, especially sleeping (and if he can get away with it, he might fall asleep right here at the table), but again, his mother and the senator have decided their children should be friends and shooed them off on their own, completely oblivious to the fact that Bela and Castiel have nothing in common outside their wealth.

His phone goes off just as Bela is touching up her lip liner, surprising her enough that she drags a pink line down her chin. Castiel laughs without thinking, and ducks away from her glare as he flips his phone open. "Hello?"

"Cas!" Dean must have gotten significantly more sleep than Cas did, because he sounds downright perky. "Told you I'd call!"

"Hello, Dean," Cas yawns. "I'm glad you did." Bela cocks an eyebrow in Castiel's direction, and he turns away from her, willing her to turn back to her little pink compact and continue ignoring him.

"Yeah? What are you up to? Is the senator still there?" A small voice pipes up in the background, interested in the senator, and Castiel smiles as Dean tells his brother to shut up and go away.

"Yes, but lunch will be over soon, and I'm certain he has other appointments to attend to."

"Then you could come out tonight? We were gonna go to the arcade. Jo and Charlie get really competitive on DDR, it's something to see." Dean's laugh rumbles down the phone. Castiel rubs his temples.

"I haven't talked to Michael yet."

"So? Fuck it! Come out anyway! We won't be out late or anything, I have to take Sam to soccer practice in the morning and Jo has to help her mom with inventory."

"Dean..."

"C'mon, Cas, it's summer break. You deserve to have a little fun."

"Do I? You don't know. Maybe I'm a slacker at school." Bela is staring at him again, but Dean is laughing, so Castiel shifts away from her again.

"I doubt that, for some reason," Dean chuckles. "They have ski-ball. And table hockey. It'll be fun."

Castiel sighs. "I'll ask Gabriel if he can take me. Okay?"

"Just be there. It's the arcade on Main Street, we're meeting up at 7:30, and Pam said she'd bring pizza, so don't be late."

"I won't," Castiel promises, just as he realizes he's actually going to do whatever it takes to be there. If he has to run into town and back, he'll do it. Dean is right; his family wants him to be friends with Bela, who has only shown an interest in him while he's been on the phone. Maybe it is time for Castiel to start finding and taking things for himself, to start making his own decisions.

"Good," Dean says, sounding pleased. "I'll see you tonight."

"Tonight. Good-bye, Dean."

"Later, Cas."

Castiel shuts his phone before rounding on Bela. "What?"

"Didn't know you had friends," Bela comments with a shrug. The kinder part of Castiel wants to believe that she means ‘in town,’ but the logical part of him recognizes she’s just being rude."Total shot in the dark, but that wasn't Dean Winchester was it?"

And Castiel realizes he doesn't know Dean and Sam's last name. "Uh."

"Dark hair, green eyes, tons of freckles and a pout to die for?" She sighs softly. "Poor little townie boy?"

Castiel scowls without meaning to; she makes Dean sound like some pretty plaything to be pitied. "Winchester. Yeah."

"I had no idea you went for that kind of crowd." Bela appraises Castiel, as if seeing him in a new light. "Maybe you're not as boring as I thought you were."

"Thanks," Cas says drily. "What kind of crowd is that?"

"Booze and sex and vandalism." She turns back to her compact, playing with her bangs, even though Castiel thinks her hair looks fine. "Y'know. Fun."

Castiel yawns again, and wonders if maybe it's not the same Dean after all. The crowd last night had been drinking soda and making s'mores, and had interacted with each other with a fraternal kind of familiarity. Charlie and Jo's teasing of Dean wasn't even flirtatious, let alone sexual. Then Castiel remembers that Dean had known Bela from parties in the woods, and Charlie's reference to someone named Alastair. "With Alastair?"

Bela looks up at him again, surprise in her heavily-mascara'd eyes. "I've never seen you out there before, how do you know these people?"

"I only know Dean, I just picked up Alastair's name in conversation."

Bela cocks an eyebrow, then snaps her compact shut, tucking it back in her purse. She leans across the table, closer to Castiel than she's ever been; he can feel the warmth exuding from her skin, and his heartbeat skips slightly.

"If you're interested, I could take you to one of their parties."

Castiel forces himself to look at her eyes. "What?"

Bela bites her lip, then grins. "Alastair, Azazel, Lilith, they know I'm in town for the summer. Whenever they go out to the woods, I get a call to join them. I could take you with me, next time they call." She lifts a hand to brush through Castiel's already unruly hair. A little voice in his head is trying to tell him she's playing with him; if Dean is a toy, Castiel can be one too. But he can barely hear it over the rush of delight that comes from her attention. He shifts in his seat and smiles.

"Okay. That, that sounds great."

Bela withdraws her hand and smirks. "All right, then. It's a date." She leans back in her chair, pulling her phone out of her purse and turning her attention away from Castiel, who’s left in a bit of a daze.

“When?”

She shrugs, now disinterested. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll come get you.” And then she’s the one turning her back on Castiel to chat with her friends, leaving him feeling confused, nervous, and a little dirty.

  
  


**June 5th, 2005**

Michael had made it very clear that he didn’t approve of Gabriel and Castiel sneaking out late at night, and not to do it again (which means, Castiel is pretty sure, he can’t go out with Bela; he can’t decide if he’s disappointed or relieved). But, under pressure and with their mother’s approval, Michael had decided to allow them both to continue to go out as long as there were no appointments for the day, and they came home before curfew. He had insinuated, several times, that he didn’t like Castiel hanging out with the locals, but Gabriel is willing to encourage any dissent in the ranks, and had surprisingly agreed to cover for Castiel whenever he wanted to spend time with his new friends.

So while Michael currently believes that Castiel is in Seaside with Gabriel and Anna, the truth is that Castiel is spread out on the Winchester’s couch, his legs tangled with Charlie’s, while Jo is laid out on the floor hogging the popcorn, and Dean is curled up in a tattered armchair, paying attention to the notebook he’s doodling in rather than the movie on the screen. Castiel is genuinely curious about what Dean’s drawing, but whenever he strains to try and peek, Charlie punches him in the thigh and points at the TV.

Castiel adapted to their tactile nature faster than he expected to. It’s actually quite comfortable, and while sometimes he catches his brain going in certain directions it shouldn’t go when Charlie or Jo move in for a hug, all it takes is a quick reminder of how hard they both can punch before that train of thought is gone. That’s the thing about it: the group just loves to lay all over each other, to hug and touch, but they’re just as quick to slap and shove and occasionally bite. It’s a double-edged sword, but Castiel finds that whether comfort or pain, the sensation makes him feel accepted. Moreso every day.

Dean had ended up losing the fight, and Charlie had insisted on the _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy first. Having to work around Castiel’s restrictions meant that it took a few days to get through all the extended editions, which may have played into how Castiel thought the films dragged at times, but overall he had enjoyed them, and it had made Charlie happy. Now, they’re finally watching _Goonies_ , complete with trivia commentary from Dean and Jo. As the kids on the screen stumble up the beach towards their parents, Dean sits up and points at the screen.

“That’s Cannon Beach! It’s just about an hour north of here, you’d love it, Cas.”

Castiel’s not sure why Dean thinks so, but he laughs softly. “Does it still have the pirate ship?”

“Shut the fuck up, no one cares about your sass right now.”

Jo twists around to throw a few pieces of popcorn in Dean’s direction, and Dean flips her off, just as the front door opens and Sam traipses in, followed by a blonde woman weighted down with paper bags. Jo and Charlie almost harmonize their, “Hello, Mary”s, and Dean scowls, throwing a pencil at Sam as he passes.

“You can’t help Mom with those bags?”

Sam sticks out his tongue at him, and waves at everyone else, ignoring Dean when he raises a middle finger in Sam’s direction. Castiel had asked Dean, that second night out at the arcade, why he and Sam were so close that they hung out together outside the house, and even blurred the lines of who was friends with whom. It struck Castiel as a little odd, especially with their age difference. But Dean had shrugged it off, asking if it was a problem, and dropping the subject as soon as Castiel insisted it wasn't. On that matter, Castiel has never met Dean's parents before either. They either go out as a group, or no one's home while they hog the TV. Castiel glances at the clock under the TV, and sits up as Charlie gets up to choose another movie. It's only early afternoon. What is Dean's mother doing home at this time of day?

"Hi Cas!" Sam says, breaking his train of thought. "How's your bruise?"

Castiel laughs softly and lifts up his shirt to show Sam the yellowing bruise under his ribs. Sam winces, and immediately sets off a pair of apologetic puppy eyes. "It's just a bruise, Sam, don't worry about it."

"I'm still sorry," Sam pouts. He's covered in dirt and sweat, and his mother nudges him as she passes.

"Go shower, Sammy. Dean! You come help me in the kitchen."

Dean rolls his eyes and sighs, but shuts his notebook and starts to take it into the kitchen. "Don't press play until I get back."

Charlie waves dismissively, still sorting through DVD cases and trying to make a decision with Jo. Castiel watches them for a moment, feeling slightly out of place, then gets up to try and find Dean.

He heads down the hallway, past the basement stairs and through the dining room, towards an open pair of pocket doors near the back. Peering in, he can see Dean shuffling around by the fridge, digging groceries out of bags and putting them away. Mary is by the stove, pulling out a large pot and setting it up on one of the burners. She looks up and smiles when she sees Castiel.

“Hi there!” And she’s really quite lovely, with a smile that matches Dean’s. “You must be the new guy I’ve been hearing so much about.”

Heat rises in Castiel’s cheeks, but he steps into the kitchen anyway, holding out his hand. “Hello. My name’s-”

“Cas,” she finishes warmly, shaking the offered hand. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you. Sorry I haven’t been around.” She glances sheepishly around the room. “I work so much, the boys kind of have to take care of themselves most of the time.”

“Where do you work, Mrs. Winchester?” Castiel asks to be polite, but he doesn’t miss Dean’s frantic glance in his direction. His mother just shrugs and gives Cas a gentle smile.

“Call me Mary, please. ‘Winchester’ is such a mouthful,” she laughs. “I’m a waitress. If you’re in town for the summer, I’m sure you’ll find me bustling around somewhere. Dean!” She sets her spoon down, and Dean folds up the paper bags and sets them atop the fridge before turning to look at her. “Can you take care of dinner? I’m going to go say hi to the girls, then take a little nap before my shift starts.”

Dean gently shoves his mother away from the stove with a brilliant smile. Mary kisses his temple, and squeezes Cas’s shoulder as she passes him.

“Sleep well, Miss-... Mary,” Castiel wishes after her, leaning back against the counter to watch Dean cook. “Is this typical for you?”

Dean’s shoulders tense. “Shouldn’t you be back with Jo and Charlie? I thought we were gonna watch Indiana Jones.”

“Yeah. _We_.” Castiel rolls his eyes. “They’re going to wait for you as much as they’re going to wait for me. Soooo…”

Dean huffs, reaching into one of the cabinets overhead, pulling out chicken broth and a bag of noodles. “My mom works three jobs. She splits her time between the Roadhouse, Fulio’s, and and the Seaside Cafe.”

“Why?”

Dean moves around the kitchen, taking pulled chicken, a few carrots, and an onion out of the fridge, then grabbing a couple carving boards from a cupboard and shoving one into Castiel’s hands. “If you’re gonna hang out in here, you’re gonna help. That’s the rule.”

Castiel blinks in surprise, but Dean just sets a couple knives on the counter, rinses the vegetables, and holds the carrots out. After a moment, Castiel takes them, setting the carving board down, and spreading the carrots out. Dean sets up next to him and actually grins, nudging his shoulder as he starts to chop the onion. “Ever done this before, rich boy?” Castiel scowls, picking up his knife and starting to cut through the carrots one by one. Dean laughs softly and shakes his head. “Don’t hurt yourself there.”

“Why does your mother work three jobs?”

The smile falls off Dean’s face. “You don’t let up, do you?”

“Why should I?”

“I don’t know, because some people like to keep things to themselves? I thought rich people were all about privacy.” Dean laughs when Castiel makes a face at him. “What?”

“My family’s money doesn’t define me.” Castiel rolls his shoulders, trying to focus on his carrots, trying to prove something to Dean. “I’d rather not be alienated for it.”

“You’re not being alienated, I’m just teasing.” But Dean sounds somewhat apologetic as he sighs. “It’s… okay. My parents got divorced when I was six. Technically, my dad should be helping out, but for various reasons…” He shrugs, his voice dropping. “He doesn’t. Or can’t. It’s a little of both. Just. Yeah. Mom has to work to keep the house and keep us fed and sometimes Ellen and Bobby help out, but we try not to lean on them too much.”

Dean takes his carving board back to the stove and pushes the chopped onions into the pot, then returns to examine Castiel’s carrots. “Not too bad,” he hums, winking as he brings the carrots over to join the onions. Castiel feels a rush of pride at his words, though he’s not sure why. Still, he can’t help smiling, leaning back against the counter again as Dean continues working on the soup..

“It’s actually very impressive that your mother can balance three jobs,” Castiel comments while Dean’s back is turned. “And still manages to be as good a mother as she can be.”

“She’s the best mom,” Dean says stiffly. “And Bobby says that as soon as I turn sixteen, he’ll take me on at the garage so I can help her out, and maybe she won’t have to work so much.”

Castiel frowns, leaning back over the counter and wincing when something digs into his shoulderblades. “That’s not your job,” he says as he turns to see what was digging into him: the notebook Dean was doodling in. His eyes dart to Dean, whose back is still turned, and carefully opens the book to the first page.

It’s Jo. It’s messy and a little cartoony and done all in pen, but it’s clearly Jo, laughing at something unseen. Surprised, Castiel flips through the pages.

“My dad won’t step up, and it’s not fair for my mom to bear all this burden.” Dean says as Castiel admires a sketch of Charlie with elfin ears (or possibly Vulcan; he can’t tell the difference yet). Half of him is saddened by Dean’s resolve to play a role that’s not his; the other half is absolutely taken by Dean’s sketches. A child, probably Sam, kicking a ball around. Batman, Ironman, Luke Skywalker… Castiel stops short when he turns to the next page, gasping softly, only to have the notebook torn out of his hands. He glances up to see Dean glaring at him, clutching the notebook to his chest.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Dean asks, his voice low. “Shit, do you have no respect for privacy? I’m telling you about all the shit my mom goes through, and that’s not enough, you’ve gotta dig through-”

“Was that Kyriel?” Castiel breathes. A blush crawls up Dean’s neck as he clutches the notebook to his chest.

“Gesundheit?” he responds weakly, trying to smile.

Castiel rolls his eyes. "Stop. That's Kyriel. Angel companion to Jared and Jensen in the Supernatural book series.”

“I thought you didn’t read those books.”

“Yeah, you said you didn’t read them either.” Castiel narrows his eyes. “Was that him?”

Dean fidgets for a moment, apparently uncomfortable, but finally sighs, letting his shoulders drop. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s Ky.” He runs a hand through his hair and tries to smile. “I know he’s new, but he’s already my favorite.”

Castiel smiles back, slowly. Where his father had created Jared and Jensen, the masculine-but-emotive stars of his book series, from his own head, there are other characters within the over-arching story that are based on his children. It’s one of his rare displays of love, especially towards Castiel, whose mother had saddled him with an unusual and clumsy name. The only thing worse would be to have that name in a popular book series. Thankfully, his father had based the angel on him, but given the character a different name.

Dean’s favorite character had been written in Castiel’s honor.

So Castiel smiles. “Mine too.” A deep breath in. “Your drawing is perfect.”

It takes a moment, but finally Dean’s smile starts to look more genuine. Shy. But genuine. “You really think so?”

“It’s just like I pictured him. Trenchcoat and everything.” Castiel laughs softly, and Dean runs a hand through his hair, eyes cast downwards.

“I have. Better drawings. If you’d like to see them sometime.”

“Better than that?”

Dean shrugs bashfully. “In color.”

“Then sure. I’d love to see them.”

There’s a moment where all they’re doing is smiling at each other, and it’s pleasant. Comfortable. Like they’ve known each other for years, not days; like their friendship is something already established, not still in development. And Castiel realizes he genuinely likes Dean. This isn’t loneliness, or desperation for contact outside of his family. It’s not like the business connections he’s been encouraged to make at school. Dean is overly defensive, and his family is struggling financially, but Castiel likes his sense of humor, is interested in his interests, and admires his passion and his talent. And apparently, Dean likes something about him.

And Castiel feels happy.

Dean slings an arm around Castiel’s shoulders, laughing slightly. “C’mon, Cas. I’m sure the girls are sick of waiting for us to get our shit together.”

“The soup?” Castiel tries, but Dean’s already dragging him back out into the hallway.

“It’s gotta cook for an hour. So what do you want to watch next? Indiana Jones or Firefly?”


	3. Kirk and Spock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for mentions of past child abuse and alcoholism

_I’m quiet, you know_  
 _You make a first impression  
_ _I’ve found I’m scared to know I’m always on your mind_

\- “ **Collide** ,” Howie Day

  


**June 8th, 2005**

“You’re focused. Practical.” Pam drags out that last syllable, drags her fingertip down Castiel’s palm, smirking slightly. “Your lines are all very deep, so you’re full of vitality. Very stubborn, too.” She turns his hand over, gently stroking her fingers over his. “Creative. Well-mannered. A gentleman.” She glances up at him from under her eyelashes, and he blushes deep scarlet, leaning away from her. On the stool behind him, Charlie snorts, and Jo giggles softly.

They’re the only ones in the Roadhouse at this time of day, except for Dean over by the jukebox, and Jo’s mother, doing paperwork in the back room. Pamela had already gone over Charlie’s palm, but she hadn’t been quite so flirtatious then. Castiel clears his throat and shrugs,  which just makes her smile stretch as she flips his hand over again, eyeing it carefully.

“Ah!” She presses her thumb just under his own, bringing it closer to her face. “You’re very charismatic. People fall in love with you wherever you go.”

Castiel draws his hand back, running it through his hair to prevent her from trying to take it back. Jo giggles again. “I very much doubt that,” Castiel says, attempting to smile. Pam just leans in closer to him, her hand on his forearm as she grins.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, sugar.”

“All right, all right.” Dean steps up behind Pam, setting his wallet on the bartop before hopping onto a stool. “Stop scaring Cas.”

“She’s not scaring me!” Castiel protests, drawing himself up on his stool, only to curl back up again when Pam sends him a flirtatious wink. Even Dean laughs at him this time.

“All that palm reading crap is bullshit anyway,” Dean says, rubbing at his nose and grinning when Pam glares at him.

“How would you know? You’ve never let me read yours. I bet I could tell you things even you don’t know about yourself.”

Charlie scoots her stool closer to Castiel, just so she can lean over his back and watch Dean and Pam over his shoulder. “Just let her read your palm, Dean. It’s not like it hurts or anything.” Dean scowls, but Charlie just hooks her chin over Castiel’s shoulder and wraps her arms around his waist, snuggling in. Castiel blushes slightly, surprised at her warmth. “And Pam’s right about people falling in love with Cas. He’s so dreamy,” Charlie giggles, toying with Castiel’s hair..

Laughing, Pam slips off her stool and places her head on Castiel’s shoulder, pressing into him until he’s sandwiched between the two girls. He stutters, blushing hot, when Pam slips a hand into the small space between his lower back and Charlie’s stomach. “Um, I, are you-”

“I can’t even look at him for long periods of time,” Pam says, ignoring his attempt to speak. “I’d probably go blind if I did.”

Castiel looks pleadingly at Dean, but Dean’s lips are pinched in a frown, his jaw tight. “Hey!” Dean snaps, slamming a hand on the bar. “Are you gonna read my palm or not?”

To Castiel’s relief, Pam pulls away, putting her hand on her hip as she glares back at Dean. “Are you actually going to let me?”

“What’s the harm?” Dean still sounds defensive, irritated, as he steals Pam’s stool and holds out his hand for her to take. Castiel attempts to ignore Charlie, who has yet to unwrap herself from around his body, and studies Dean, his flared nostrils and twitching jaw and tight shoulders. Could he be jealous? It’s true that Dean is good-looking, from an objective point of view. He’s definitely the most attractive boy in town, at least that Castiel has seen. ‘Pretty,’ might be the right word, with his long lashes and full lips, just like his mother. Castiel had been joking when he talked about stealing Dean’s girls, but maybe it wasn’t so funny if it was actually true. Of course Dean would be jealous: he’s the king tomcat for an entire year, and Castiel waltzes in and steals his girls away? Castiel would be annoyed too, were he in Dean’s shoes.

Pam takes her time studying Dean’s hand, making him fidget uncomfortably, especially as her finger pokes and prods at his palm, as she brings his hand right up under her nose, then pulls it back again to study it from afar. In the silence, Jo slides off her stool and heads for the jukebox, which makes Dean twitch and call after her, “Don’t you play any fucking REO Speedwagon, Joanna Beth!”

Jo sticks her tongue out at him, but they all jump when a sharp voice comes from the back: “That better not be Dean Winchester swearing in my bar!”

Dean winces before yelling back, “Sorry, Ellen!”

Jo puts on REO Speedwagon anyway, then pulls her stool up next to Dean just to smirk at him while Pamela still has his hand trapped.

Finally, Pam looks up at Dean. “There’s artistry all over you,” she says slowly, sounding a little surprised. Charlie untangles herself from Castiel and instead pulls up next to him, watching Pam curiously. “Hard-headed, argumentative, but loyal.” Pam bends Dean’s thumb back and shakes her head, smiling affectionately. “Very generous. Logical.” Still smiling, Pam runs her finger over the center of Dean’s palm. “And this is interesting.”

She pauses for dramatic effect, until Dean fidgets again and prompts, “What?”

“I thought palm reading was just bullshit?” Pam teases.

“It is,” Dean says with a frown, “but tell me anyway.”

Pam clears her throat, glancing at her audience and drawing them in; Castiel thinks she could make good money off this someday, whether it’s real or not. “Dean, you will only ever fall in love once in your life.”

Castiel glances at Charlie, who shrugs. Dean, however, looks put out. “That’s it? So what?”

Pam rolls her eyes. “Look, just trust me, okay? You’re gonna fall in love, and it’s gonna be for life, and I see that as clearly as I see how artistic you are.”

Dean jerks his palm back, still irritated. “You knew the art thing already.”

“Not really,” Jo says. “We see you doodle a lot, but I’ve never actually seen any sort of finished product.”

And that’s a surprise to Castiel; he’d known that Dean was protective of his drawings, but the immediate assumption was that it was because Castiel was new and unknown. He’d had no idea that his snooping through Dean’s notebook was such a breach of trust, though it doesn’t seem to have damaged their friendship any. In fact, Dean keeps glancing at Castiel, as if waiting for him to say something, but Castiel doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say, so he keeps his mouth shut.

Dean shakes his head quickly, and studies his open palm. “I’ll only fall in love once, huh?”

“Yup.” Pam leans over and points at something Castiel can’t see. “It’s deep and long and starts here and blah blah shit you don’t care about, but it means you’re gonna be a monogamous son of a bitch someday, and you’ll be ecstatic about it.”

“Will I?” Dean smirks, but his tone of voice is peculiar. “It’s one thing for me to fall in love once. It’s a whole other thing whether or not the girl I love loves me back.” Pam sits up straight, lips pursed in surprise. “Can you see that? Will she love me too?”

There’s a tension in the room, heavy and uncertain, and no one seems to know what to say. Charlie slumps, burdened under the weight of it, and Pam stammers slightly, trying to cover all her bases. “I… well, I can’t really tell that part, just… I’m pretty sure you’ll be happy, but I’d have to see her palm first? I can’t know unless I know her.”

Dean closes his eyes, still smirking, but there’s a sadness there, resigned, and Castiel can’t help himself. “Who wouldn’t love you, Dean?”

Dean opens his eyes. Everyone turns to stare at Castiel, but of course they do, because they weren’t there that first morning when Castiel told Dean how grateful he was. It’s a strange, heavy moment, with everyone waiting to see how Dean reacts, as Dean decides how he’s going to react. Castiel has figured out by now, these kids, the Goonies, they show their affection through touch and through teasing, and Castiel’s honesty is peculiar and not entirely welcome. Especially with Dean.

Finally, Dean snorts, rubbing a hand over his face. “You just get right to the heart of it, don’t you, Cas?” He starts to laugh, and so do the others, and though the tension is starting to drain out of the room, Castiel feels a little hurt that Dean would laugh at his attempt at comfort. Then he meets Dean’s eyes, which hold nothing but gratitude, and Castiel starts to smile as well.

To lighten things up, Charlie prompts Dean into a conversation about the new Batman movie, which leads to a discussion about who was the best Batman. Jo’s mother takes a break from book-balancing to make everyone milkshakes, and Castiel likes her immediately, even though she’s gruff and abrasive in a way he’s never seen from a woman before. Or, perhaps, that’s exactly why he likes her. Sam arrives an hour later, accompanied by an equally gruff man who Dean explains is his uncle Bobby, Ellen’s husband and Jo’s step-father. Regular customers are starting to come in too, and they want something stronger than milkshakes, so Bobby shoos the kids off to a corner booth. When Mary comes in for her shift, she stops by the table with burgers for everyone, and even takes a few moments to sit with her boys and try to keep up as they tell her what they’ve been up to today.

It’s warm and pleasant, and there’s good food and good people, and Dean keeps looking over at Castiel with this odd, crooked little smile, and Castiel smiles back, because he’s never been as happy as he is right this moment.

  


**June 12th, 2005**

It’s raining.

That’s not unusual for the northwestern coast, but the storm is particularly bad today, and Castiel had had to do a lot of wheedling and lying to get Gabriel to take him out, and Michael to let them go. But while most days are spent out at the beach, or the park, playing games in the sun with the girls, this morning Dean had mentioned working on some sketches, and Castiel has been dying to finally see some of Dean’s completed work.

So Dean has finally taken Castiel down to his bedroom in the basement. And it’s perfect.

There’s posters everywhere, mostly hard rock bands with names that Castiel only recognizes because Dean and Jo like to fight about them. A few movie posters as well, and Castiel stops by the overloaded bookshelf when he realizes that black and white Batman mini-poster is hand-drawn. “Did you draw this?”

Dean follows Castiel’s gaze, then gives up a little half-smile. “Just a quick doodle.”

“Don’t do that.” Castiel frowns, shoving Dean’s shoulder, which only makes Dean laugh.

“You sound like Charlie and Jo. Are you spending time with them without me?”

“I’m dating both of them at the same time. They’re okay with it.”

Dean laughs again, harder, and flops down on his unmade bed. Castiel takes another look around, drinking in the absolute _Dean_ -ness of this little underground room, then takes a seat on the floor next to the record player. “Do you actually listen to these records?” he asks, brushing his fingertips over the albums in the milk crates in front of him.

“Of course,” Dean scoffs, kicking his shoes into the corner. “It’s the only way to listen to music.”

Castiel shakes his head, smiling to himself. “Are you fifty? You do realize you can get music for free online.”

“Shitty music, and shitty quality,” Dean points out, and sits up, grinning. “Do you want to play one? I’ll make you a vinyl supremacist too.”

“You can’t just mold me in your image, Dean.” Castiel pulls out record out of its sleeve anyway, placing it on the turntable and setting the needle. As the Beach Boys start to sing about girls across the country, Cas leans back on his arms and makes a face at Dean. “I’m my own person with my own tastes.”

Dean rolls his eyes and shrugs, sliding off the bed to sit next to Castiel on the floor. “You have good taste in literature, I’ll give you that. We'll work on the rest."

"At least my books are good enough for the illustrious Dean Winchester." It's Castiel's turn to roll his eyes, though he focuses on flipping through Dean's record collection. Metallica, AC/DC, Creedence Clearwater Revival. "I don't know much about vinyl, but aren't these pretty hard to come by?" He pulls out a copy of Brothers and Sisters by The Allman Brothers, only for Dean to slip it out of his hands, and gently stroke the cover.

"It's my dad's collection. He gave them to me when I turned thirteen." Dean carefully puts the record back into place, and runs his palm over the small but admirable selection. "He misses my birthday sometimes, but he always tries to make up for it." And Dean must miss the horrified look on Castiel's face, because he smiles dreamily and rests his chin in his hands. "He said he'd give me his car for my eighteenth birthday. I could go without for a few years as long as he remembers that promise."

"Wait." Castiel puts a hand on Dean's shoulder (touch, always touch), and furrows his brow when Dean turns to look at him. "Your father forgets your birthday?" Castiel's own parents may be distant, but he can always anticipate a nice card and either a new book or some extra spending money when September 18th rolls around.

But Dean bristles. "He misses Sam's sometimes too," he says, and seems to realize too late that it's not a very good defense. "Look, he's got a lot going on. Life's been hard on him."

"So it's okay to forget his kids' birthdays?" Castiel is starting to get an idea of why Mary might have left her husband, but Dean just fidgets, pointedly keeping his eyes away from Castiel. He reaches under his bed and pulls out a large sketchbook, fingers tapping on the cover before he opens it. There’s a long, drawn out silence, where Castiel watches Dean focus in on his sketchbook, his pencil creating a soothing rhythm as it moves across the page. The only sign that time has passed is the new song softly playing from Dean’s speakers. Castiel lays down on his back, resting his hands on his stomach and watching Dean until Dean starts to fidget again.

“What, did you forget how to talk?” Dean finally snaps, burying his head deeper in his sketchbook.

“You’re the one who shut down in the middle of the conversation,” Castiel responds, much less accusatory.

“You’re the one digging into my personal business,” Dean mutters, but there’s less venom in it. He sketches in silence for another moment, then groans in frustration, dropping the book to his knees. “Can we at least make it an even exchange here?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if I’m going to have to talk about shit I don’t want to talk about, you’re going to have to talk about shit you don’t want to talk about. Fair’s fair, Cas.”

Castiel stares up at the ceiling, the only empty space in Dean’s room, except for the ceiling fan. Dean raises a good point; he’s been pushing him to share information since they met, and Dean usually, eventually, crumbles. But while Castiel feels he has proven himself a good listener to someone who desperately needs an ear, he hasn’t done much sharing of his own. Though, again, this is the only time Dean has asked. “What do you want to know?”

Dean scoots around so he can look at Castiel as he thinks, though his attention returns to his sketchbook when he says, “Tell me about your family.”

“What?” Castiel raises up onto his elbows, but Dean still doesn’t look at him. “What about my family?”

Dean shrugs and brings his pencil to his lips, tapping it a few times before chewing on the eraser. “Just. Tell me about your siblings. Why’s Michael such a dick? Why does Gabriel take you out here? What about the other two?” He looks up and grins briefly, the pencil between his teeth. Castiel supposes it might be charming, if he were a girl. “Or your parents. What do your parents do that brings in so much money?” Castiel hums softly, sitting up to try and peek at what Dean’s working on. Dean pulls back and grins again. “Can’t see until you talk.”

With a huff, Castiel leans on his hands again. “Okay, okay. Have you ever heard of Zachariah Adler?”

Dean’s brow furrows in thought. “Is that the bald guy that comes on TV late at night to talk about Jesus?”

Castiel can’t help a little laugh. “Yeah, some of his old shows get recycled on certain channels. He’s my uncle.” Dean’s immediate disgusted reaction produces another laugh out of Castiel. “So my mother’s family has had money from his work for ages. Mother is Uncle Zach’s manager, and she’s trying to teach Michael how to take over for her so she can retire before Anna graduates college.”

Dean is leaning in now, genuinely curious. “And your dad?”

“He’s a writer.”

“Have I heard of him?”

Castiel thinks of that messy sketch of Kyriel and smiles. “Probably. He writes under a pen name though, and I’m not going to tell you what it is.” Dean’s pout is very convincing, but Castiel shakes his head, refusing to be swayed. “No. We Miltons like our privacy, or else Mother would still be working under her maiden name.”

Dean sighs dramatically and hands his sketchbook to Castiel, who eagerly flips through it. These drawings are far better than the ones in the wired notebook; they’re cleaned up and colored, and though Dean obviously leans towards a style that could fit right in with the comic book greats, it’s clear his hand is developing ideas of its own. Castiel recognizes a few of the people in the drawings, a broad-shouldered Captain America, a Joker with a jagged grin, but there’s a lot of experimentation within the pages as well. “Are you taking an art class?” Castiel asks softly, pausing on a drawing of a slice of pie, a pop of red cherries the only color.

“Why? Should I?” And Castiel finally looks up at the slight tremble in Dean’s voice. Dean gives up a brief, counterfeit smile, and runs a hand over his face. “That bad?”

Castiel frowns, dropping the sketchbook to his lap. “No,” he says slowly, tilting his head. “Just the opposite, actually.” When Dean still looks confused, Castiel gestures to the book. “These are really good, Dean. Especially if you’ve never had any training.”

“Oh.” Dean’s shoulders drop, losing their tension, and again, that shy smile appears on his face. “You really think so?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” Their eyes meet, and silence falls as they look at each other curiously, sussing one another out. Castiel can’t believe that Dean could possibly be so insecure about his talent, that he’s never shown his drawings to anyone outside his family before. Dean seems to be hesitant to believe Castiel’s praise, but is slowly warming to the idea, if the growing smile on his face is any indication.

After a long moment, Dean reaches over and slowly takes his sketchbook out of Castiel’s lap. “My dad drinks,” he says, and Castiel’s eyebrows rise up.

“What?”

“You asked about my dad. He drinks.” Dean swallows, his eyes momentarily darting away from Castiel before he clears his throat and forces them back. “That’s why he forgets our birthdays sometimes. And kinda why Mom left him.”

Castiel sits up straight, his head tilted. Dean laughs awkwardly and imitates his stance, maybe trying to distract himself from this story he obviously doesn’t tell often. “He and Uncle Bobby had their own garage together back in Lawrence, occasionally fixing up and selling old classics when they had the opportunity. But it went under around the time Sam was born. Bobby moved out here, met Ellen, married her and started up another garage in town, so people wouldn’t have to go to Seaside anymore. Dad…” Dean pauses, his jaw twitching, and has to take a deep breath before continuing: “Dad didn’t handle it so well. He started drinking, and it got pretty bad.” He rubs the ball of his hand against his temple, an almost unconscious gesture that makes Castiel wonder just what ‘pretty bad’ means. “So Mom left him. I grew up in Topeka, but then shit happened and Mom decided to bring us out here instead.”

“‘Shit happened?’” Castiel frowns, ready to ask what that means, but when Dean’s eyes narrow, the words die in his throat. It means that Dean has shared enough for today. “Okay, okay. Fine.”

With the lull in conversation, they both finally realize that the record has reached its end. Dean stretches to reach, to flip it, to drop the needle again. The new song is fast-paced, but neither boy is driven to move, both waiting for something to break.

That something is Castiel.

“My brothers fight.”

Dean glances at him, an eyebrow cocked. Castiel takes a breath. “Michael and Lucifer. They fight all the time. That night we met? It got pretty bad, and Gabe and I were just trying to get away from it for a while.”

“‘Pretty bad?’” Dean repeats, but he relents when Castiel glares at him. “Okay. Is it just those two?”

“Usually. Gabe likes to play pranks and pick fights sometimes, but he stays out of Michael’s way, and he doesn’t mean any harm.”

Dean takes a moment to digest this, tapping his pencil against the sketchpad. Castiel just stares at his lap. Echoing guitars and a soothing croon are the only other sounds in the room until Dean starts tapping his pencil against Castiel’s knee, laughing when Castiel jerks away in surprise.

“D’you wanna go watch Fight Club?” Dean asks, and there’s a spark in his eyes that wasn’t there a few minutes ago. Sharing time is over. Castiel can’t help feeling a little relieved. “Have you seen it?”

“I read the book,” Castiel answers, which earns him an approving clap on the shoulder before Dean scrambles to turn off the music and stand up.

“Told you you had good taste.” Dean is practically beaming, though Castiel wonders if it isn’t a little forced. “You’ll like the movie, come on.”

And just like that, it’s as if they weren’t just trading their family secrets back and forth, as if the shared moments of pain had never happened. They’re stomping up the stairs to take the television away from Sam and watch yet another movie, just like they have on afternoons prior. But something’s changed in the way Dean looks at Castiel now, and Castiel is fairly certain that it’s a good thing, that it’s reflective of their shared knowledge, and shared trust. If he could just figure out what, exactly, has changed.

  


**June 17th, 2005**

“What are you doing up?”

Castiel wheels around, eyes searching the darkness until they settle on a figure leaning against the upstairs railing. It’s Lucifer; Castiel can see the light-colored bed-head once his eyes adjust.. “Couldn’t sleep,” Castiel offers, and it’s only half a lie. He probably would’ve been able to sleep if Dean hadn’t texted him about the Star Trek marathon on the SciFi channel, insisting he stay up and text Dean about it. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

Lucifer waves away his concern, and stumbles down the stairs to flop on the couch next to his brother. He stares blankly at the television for a moment, which Castiel takes as an opportunity to text Dean.

 

**To: Dean**

**1:41am**

**Kirk reminds me of you. Pls take as compliment.**

 

“I didn’t know you liked this kind of thing,” Lucifer mumbles, leaning forward to rest his chin in his hand.

“I’ve been hearing about it for most of my life, and thought I might try it since it’s on.” Castiel shrugs, and his phone vibrates on the sofa’s arm. He flips it open, ignoring Lucifer’s raised eyebrow.

 

**From: Dean**   
**1:43am**

**if im kirk thn ur spock**

 

**From: Dean**

**1:43am**

**charlies bn callin u spock neway**

 

Castiel laughs softly, covering his mouth with his hand. Lucifer tilts his head, smiling in that odd, patronizing way of his. “Pretty girl?”

“What?” Castiel is only partially paying attention, focusing instead on the television, and trying to figure out how to respond to Dean’s text.

“You met a pretty girl,” Lucifer says again, slower this time, as he leans back into the couch. “Explains where you’ve been going all the time. Is it that Talbot girl?”

“ _What_?” Now Castiel looks at his brother. Lucifer just looks back at him, with that knowing gaze as if he can see all of Castiel’s deepest secrets, and Castiel feels a spike of irritation. “No! It’s my friend Dean.”

“A pretty boy, then.” And now Lucifer is teasing. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Go back to bed,” Castiel says stiffly, tucking himself into the corner of the couch so he can text Dean back.

 

**To: Dean**

**1:48am**

**My brother’s up, txt later**

 

“If you like boys, you know we’ll all still love you,” Lucifer says in a sing-song voice, earning a kick in the thigh. “Ow! C’mon, Cas, you’re texting him in the middle of the night, what am I supposed to think?”

“That he’s my friend and that’s what friends do?” Castiel answers, frowning. Lucifer frowns back, and they stare each other down until Castiel’s phone vibrates again, and he hurries to open the newest text.

 

**From: Dean**

**1:50am**

**which 1? r u ok?**

 

And Castiel smiles, all his tension rushing out of him at the thought of Dean’s immediate concern. If this is what it’s like to trust someone, and to have that someone actually be deserving of that trust, then Castiel’s not sure there could be a better feeling in the world.

“Look at that smile,” Lucifer says, poking Castiel’s shoulder and chuckling to himself. “Where did you meet the lucky guy?”

Castiel rolls his eyes, curling up around his phone. “You’re not funny.”

“Castiel, I’m serious.”

“No you’re not, you’re being a dick.” Lucifer blinks in surprise, and Castiel can’t blame him; it’s not like him to call people out, nor to call them names.

“I meant, it’s good to see you making friends. We worry about you.” And there’s that patronizing smile again, that sad little thing that makes Castiel feel like he’s a five year-old who just said something overly innocent and can’t understand why everyone’s laughing at him. He rolls his eyes again and turns back to his phone.

 

**To: Dean**

**1:55am**

**Its Luke. Im fine dw brb**

 

“Why would you worry about me?” Castiel says with a sigh, leaning over his knees. Though there’s still an aura of pity around it, Lucifer looks almost affectionate for once. He shrugs, however, keeping it casual.

“You’ve always been kind of a loner, is all. Even when I got you on the track team-”

“You pointed me in that direction,” Castiel corrects him, annoyed. “I got myself on the track team.”

“Of course,” Lucifer concedes, but the look on his face is coddling and condescending. “But even then, you liked those guys, right? And they liked you. But you never spent any time with any of them.” Lucifer sighs, as if it’s legitimately heartbreaking to think of his baby brother all alone in the world. “We just don’t want to see you lonely.”

And Castiel has to think about it for a moment. He had never considered himself to be _lonely_ at school - he just had a hard time relating to the other kids, and found it easier to entertain himself with books and studying. He had gotten along fairly well with a couple of boys on the track team this year, but when Balthazar and Uriel wanted to go out and party after a victory, or even just invited him over to watch a movie on a Friday night, Castiel had found his old habits hard to break. He’s honestly not sure why they’re now so easy to break for Dean, however. Perhaps he just finds Dean more interesting, more novel- but that’s not right either. Dean isn’t a toy to play with, or a specimen to study. Castiel genuinely likes him, and he’s again flooded with warmth with his phone buzzes.

 

**From: Dean**

**2:01am**

**if ne1 hurts u i’ll kill em**

 

It’s an empty threat, an exaggeration, but Castiel can read the meaning behind the words, can see Dean’s protectiveness and loyalty all over them, and it makes him happy to know that he has someone like that on his side.

“I met Dean in town,” he says suddenly, smiling at the confusion on his brother’s face. “His mother is a waitress, and his brother plays league soccer, and his best friends are all a bunch of geeks and nerds, and they like me, and I like them.”

And Lucifer’s expression changes from confused to disgusted. “You’ve been spending all day with a bunch of townie hooligans?” he says in a low voice, eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“Why not?”

“What do they have to offer you?”

Castiel laughs, surprising himself. “If you have to ask that question, then you’re not going to understand my answer.” Lucifer simply rolls his eyes, turning back to the television.

“Mother would be furious if she found out,” Lucifer mumbles after a moment.

“I’d think you, of all people, would understand that Mother and Michael shouldn’t control every aspect of my life,” Castiel whispers back, earning a shocked look in his direction. Apparently, no one expected baby Castiel to start rebelling, even in these soft and subtle ways. Choosing his own friends should be a given, not a secret, and it troubles Castiel that Lucifer seems to have difficulty understanding this.

Lucifer, still looking like someone just informed him the sky is actually red, finally stands up and half-heartedly ruffles Castiel’s hair as he passes him on his way to the stairs. “Don’t stay up too late,” he warns as he heads back up to bed. Castiel just smiles, pleased with himself, and pulls his phone back out.

 

**To: Dean**

**2:10am**

**I can take care of myself**

 

It’s only a few seconds before his phone goes off again.

 

**From: Dean**

**2:10am**

**i know. kirk’s still got spock’s back tho.**

 

And Castiel can only smile.

  


**June 18th, 2005**

Lucifer tells Michael about what Castiel does during the day, and Michael subsequently puts his foot down. The fight that ensues is not something Castiel thought himself capable of, and judging by the way his siblings stare at him open-mouthed, they didn’t think so either.

But still, Michael is Michael; he is both Mother and Father in their absence, and Castiel finally yields under a threat to inform their mother. He agrees to stop seeing his friends in town, but as soon as he’s locked in his room, he’s texting Dean, informing him of everything that just happened. Because Dean understands. And Dean’s just as furious as Castiel, as they text until morning, discussing ways to make it easier for Castiel to sneak away.

And it’s like a weight is lifted, knowing that Dean actually does have his back. They’ll make it work, no matter what it takes.

  


**June 24th, 2005**

Lucifer and Michael are fighting again. This time, Gabriel is in the middle, trying to calm them down and hold their family together. Anna’s music is loud and angry, but not quite as loud and angry as their brothers. Castiel is in his room, curled up on his bed, feeling tired and bitter. It’s been harder than he expected to get away from his family, now that Lucifer is apt to be suspicious every time Castiel leaves the house, even if he’s with Gabriel or Anna. A part of him is genuinely disgusted; he’s expected to sit here and listen to his brothers tear each other apart, but how dare he even consider seeking solace with someone who isn’t of their station. Is Castiel truly committing the greater sin?

Hardly.

Castiel sits up and reaches for his phone, dialing Dean’s number. Dean answers on the second ring.

“Cas! I was just gonna text you-”

“Can I come over?”

“Sure!” It’s past nine, but Dean doesn’t even hesitate. “You can get away?”

“My brothers are currently more concerned with each other,” Castiel says in a low voice. “They won’t notice I’m gone.”

“Awesome! We’re headed out to the beach in a minute, you want to meet us there?”

“Yes,” and Castiel hates how much it sounds like pleading. “Where at?”

“Text me when you’re close and I’ll meet you by the flagpole, across from the cafe, okay?”

“Okay.” Castiel reaches for his trainers and starts to pull them on, using his shoulder to keep his phone at his ear. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Good luck, Spock!” Dean says cheerfully, and Castiel can hear laughter before the line cuts off. He’s smiling to himself, unconsciously, as he tightens his laces, changes into a lighter shirt, and slips out of his room. With Gabe occupied, he’ll have to run out to town, but that’s not a problem; he runs through town every morning for practice, and before Lucifer ratted him out, he would typically run out to see his friends later in the day. His time is already much improved, and it hasn’t even been a month.

He pauses at the front door, glancing over his shoulder at the kitchen entryway. Lucifer is yelling about wanting to live his own life, threatening to move to a commune in San Francisco, and Castiel rolls his eyes as he reaches for the doorknob. So Lucifer is allowed to dream about a boho life surrounded by artists, but Castiel has to stay in line and do as Mother says? What a hypocrite.

“Hey!” And Castiel freezes, halfway out the door. Michael’s voice continues, “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Castiel peeks out around the door and says nothing. His brothers are all staring at him from the kitchen entryway, though Gabriel is the only one who doesn’t look angry. Tired, maybe, or confused, but not angry.

“Go back to bed, Castiel,” Michael says, his voice low and smooth. Castiel’s eye twitches, and for all of two seconds he considers doing as Michael asks, going back inside and apologizing and going to bed. But then he thinks of how happy Dean had been to hear from him, and with a strange jolt of courage, Castiel raises his middle finger at his brothers. When they’re all too stunned to respond, he takes off into the night.

He’s halfway to town when he realizes he’s laughing, infinitely pleased with himself. He’ll pay for his insubordination the next time he sees Michael, but for now, he’s free. And the people who truly care about him are waiting, just a few more minutes away.

And yet.

When he reaches the beach, when he finds the flagpole and Dean is there, Dean is smiling at Castiel until he’s not. The smile falls away, and a hand reaches for Castiel’s shoulder and Dean’s voice sounds very, very small when he asks, “Are you all right?”

Castiel leans over, hands on his knees, and tries to catch his breath. This isn’t exhaustion, it’s something else, something more terrifying, and Dean’s hand remains a warm anchor on his shoulder until Castiel can speak again. “Michael caught me leaving.”

Dean’s mouth becomes a tight line, holding back whatever it is he really wants to say. “And?”

Castiel’s heart is pounding, his throat constricting as he struggles not to think about what will be waiting for him when he gets home in the morning. “I flipped him off.”

Dean’s eyelids flutter, his lips parting in surprise, before he lets out a joyful noise and claps Castiel on the back. “Holy shit, Cas! Good for you!”

Dean’s enthusiasm makes Castiel smile, brings back that feeling of warmth and acceptance, and suddenly he’s laughing again, and Dean is laughing with him, and they throw their arms around each other’s shoulders before they stumble off into the sand to enjoy their freedom.

 

\-----

 

One moment, Castiel is laying on his back, poking Dean’s shoulder and kicking Charlie’s shin as they try to find constellations in the clear night sky. The next, someone is shouting overhead:

“C’mon, kids, party’s over!”

Castiel blinks his eyes open to find himself in a pile of sleepy, whining teenagers. Charlie is spooned up behind him, with Jo on top of her, and Castiel’s head had at some point made its way to Dean’s chest, Pam’s hair tickling his nose from where she’s still waking up on Dean’s stomach. A whistle blows, making Dean jump, forcing Castiel to sit up and shake Charlie and Jo off as he turns to find the source of the noise. An older woman in a police jacket is smiling down at them, tucking the whistle back into her chest pocket.

“Sun’s up, tourists are out, time to go home!” she says cheerfully. Jo groans, flipping onto her back in the sand.

“Man, Jody, it’s too early for this!” Still, Jo squeals and hurries to stand when Jody pulls the whistle back out. “Come on!”

“Hey, hey, it’s Sheriff Mills when I’m on duty. C’mon, I let you guys hang out after curfew, the least you could do is try not to leave the tourists wondering if we host teenage orgies after dark.” Jody gestures at the rest of the kids, still untangling themselves. Castiel helps Dean up, then they both help Pam, while Charlie remains stubbornly seated in the sand. “At least you’re all clothed. You weren’t drinking were you?” She eyes Dean suspiciously, and he huffs in irritation before kneeling to help Pam start folding up the blankets. Jo goes to help them, Charlie watching unhelpfully, so Castiel steps in, clearing his throat.

“We wouldn’t drink, I promise.” Jody raises an eyebrow at him, tilting her head.

“You’re new. What’s your name?”

“Castiel.”

She studies him for a moment longer, then nods slowly. “You’ve picked a good crew, Castiel. Most of them, anyway.” Off to the side, Dean makes another annoyed noise, and Jo whispers at him, nudging his ankle with her foot. “Are you visiting, or a permanent addition?”

“Visiting,” Castiel answers, as Jo forces Charlie to help her take the blankets back to their bikes. Dean reappears at Castiel’s side, leaning against his shoulder.

“He’s staying at the resort,” Dean provides helpfully, grinning his toothiest, most charming grin. “Such a good apple.” When Jody just raises an eyebrow, Dean leans over and presses a wet kiss to Castiel’s cheek. Castiel ducks away with a disgusted noise, wiping at his cheek as Dean laughs. “He’s my new bestest friend.”

“Lose the sass, Winchester,” Jody says, rolling her eyes. Dean’s still grinning, even as Castiel makes a face at him. “Your cheek is not appreciated this time of day.”

“That’s for damn sure,” Castiel mutters, rubbing at his face one more time before he reaches for his phone to check the time. It’s just past ten, and he runs a hand through his hair as he thinks back on what happened last night. “Michael’s going to kill me.”

To his surprise, Dean’s hand grips his shoulder, and all the humor has gone from Dean’s eyes as he looks at Castiel. “Do you want to spend the day at my place?” Dean asks quietly. His concern seems a little bit of an overreaction, and Castiel sighs.

“No, it’s all right, I should just go back and face the music.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“That’s not necessary-”

“Just in case things get out of hand.” A muscle in Dean’s face twitches as he stubbornly tightens his jaw. Castiel mirrors the action, and fidgets away from Dean’s grip.

“We talked about this, Dean. I don’t need to be protected.”

“But what if-”

“Michael wouldn’t hurt me.” The thought alone is almost insulting; sure, his oldest brother likes to yell, likes to guilt, and maybe occasionally throws things, but no physical fighting has ever occurred.

But Dean’s eyes narrow as he grabs Castiel’s arm and drags him further down the beach, away from prying ears. Jody is still watching them curiously, but she allows them their privacy and heads up to the boardwalk to talk to the girls.

Water is touching their feet before Dean lets go of Castiel’s arm, and crosses his own over his chest. “It starts like that,” he says, the words coming almost like short bursts, like he’s struggling to force them over his lips. “That certainty that someone couldn’t possibly hurt you because they love you. But you’re wrong. You never know what people are capable of.”

“Is this some kind of after school special?” Castiel responds snippily, though he regrets it the instant Dean’s face falls. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… please, continue.”

Dean huffs, looking out over the ocean. Waves crash noisily in the distance, white foam rushing towards their ankles. “When my dad’s business went under and he started drinking, he and my mom fought all the time. Yelling, broken dishes, dad storming out and not coming back until after I’d gone to bed. I was really little, but I still remember all of it.” Dean exhales slowly, watching the clouds coming in from the horizon, dark and heavy with rain. For the first time, Castiel realizes why Dean has been so understanding about his situation: Dean truly knows what it’s like to live with the kind of negative energy and constant tension Castiel has to go through. He understands the idea of a family that’s not quite broken, but maybe it should be, and Castiel feels all his stress suddenly draining from his body. The thought that Mary left her husband, that Dean’s family did end up broken in the end, scares Castiel a little, but at the same time, Sam and Dean are wonderful, talented kids, and Mary is there for them as much as she can be. So maybe it’s not so bad after all.

Dean clears his throat and turns his eyes to the wet sand at his feet. “I tried to help Mom. Told her I loved her as often as possible, spent all my time with her instead of making friends, but y’know, I was only six. What does a six year-old know?” Dean rolls his shoulders and rubs at his chin, still refusing to look at Castiel. “I was still up one night when Dad got home, and he and Mom started fighting, and he grabbed her and pushed her, so y’know, I tried to protect her and I just… got in the way, I guess.”

Dean is silent for a long time, and Castiel gently brushes his fingertips over Dean’s wrist. “Got in the way?” Castiel prompts carefully. Dean tenses, but doesn’t pull away from Castiel’s soft grip.

“I got hit. More of a slap, really, but I was little and Dad wasn’t really in control, so it bruised pretty bad. And that was it for Mom. She packed up and took me and Sam to her parents’ place in Topeka the next morning.” Dean rubs at his face again before finally lifting his head to look at Cas, chuckling slightly. And Castiel can see the shine in his green eyes, the tears he was trying to hide as he spoke, and for one rushing second, Castiel realizes how rare this is, how absolutely atypical it is for Dean to talk about this part of his life, let alone with someone he’s only known a few weeks.

Castiel starts to say something, but Dean’s not done yet. “Dad has always felt bad about it, he apologizes whenever I see him, and it’s not like he meant to do it, he wasn’t in his right mind…” Dean pauses and bites his lower lip for a moment. “But still. Just because your brother hasn’t hurt you yet doesn’t mean he never will.”

Dean’s protectiveness makes sense now. The wild impulse to hug him takes over, but before Castiel can give in, Jody has come to join them, and Dean finally pulls away from Castiel’s grip. “Problem, boys?”

“No,” Castiel says, at the same time Dean says, “Cas’s brother is a dick and I don’t trust him.”

Jody glances at Castiel. “Is there a reason Dean doesn’t trust him?”

“He yells a lot, but it’s not a-”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, Cas,” Dean interrupts, and he looks genuinely troubled. Jody watches them curiously, again, and clears her throat.

“I could take him back, Dean, if it’ll make you feel better.”

Dean seems surprised and pleased by the gesture, but Castiel groans, running his hands through his hair. “Coming home in a cop car will honestly just make it worse,” he says, trying to ignore the hurt look on Dean’s face. “It’s late enough in the day that people will see, and if it gets back to my parents? Forget grounded, I’m chained up in my room at _best_.”

Jody cocks an eyebrow. “All the more reason for me to check it out,” she says with a sense of finality, putting a hand on Castiel’s shoulder to lead him back to the boardwalk. Dean follows, lips twitching as if he’s fighting the urge to smile. Castiel punches him in the arm, which only serves to make Dean’s laugh bubble up to the surface.

“He’s staying in one of the bungalows down at the resort,” Dean offers once they’ve reached the concrete, as Castiel is staring down Jody’s brown and white vehicle. He pointedly refuses to look at either of his companions, especially as they start whispering to each other. They don’t understand. Appearance is everything, and it’s one thing for Castiel to show up back at the resort sweaty and covered in sand. It’s another thing entirely for him to be escorted home by the townie sheriff. Gossip spreads fast, and it won’t matter what the truth is: exiting a police car is exiting a police car, and wagging tongues won’t care if he exits from the front seat or the back as long as they have a story to tell.

He’s considering taking off at a run, but he’s not sure if Jody would chase him down or not, since it really kind of is her job to ensure that people in her jurisdiction are safe, and Dean has given her a reason to believe Castiel may not be. Too late, however; Dean is straddling his bike, leaning over the handlebars with a smug smile on his face as Jody gently ushers Cas towards the car.

“I’ll see you around, Cas,” Dean says cheerfully, gliding up to the open window as Castiel closes the car door.

“Probably not,” Castiel answers. Dean’s face falls suddenly, his green eyes full of hurt, but before Castiel can try to figure out what just happened, if he should apologize, Jody is pulling out into the street and turning the car around, heading north.

“Dean didn’t tell me anything,” Jody says once they’re on the interstate.

“How do you know he had anything to tell, then?” Castiel mutters, earning a glare in his direction.

“He was just grateful I offered to keep an eye on you. He’s a good kid. Well,” she sighs, “when he’s with other good kids, anyway.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, ignoring the other implications. “Still doesn’t answer my question.”

“Look, a kid talks about facing his brother instead of his parents, his friend seems genuinely concerned for his well-being, I start getting a little concerned too. I’m not arresting anyone or searching your house without a warrant. It’s just a ride home.”

Castiel slides down in his seat as she pulls into the resort, parking along the curb. “Just a ride home?” he says, frowning, as she undoes her seatbelt and slides out of the car. She doesn’t respond, waiting patiently as Castiel attempts to temper his panic and get out of the car. He slams the door and goes to join Jody on the sidewalk, keeping his eyes on the ground. The valets and bellhops are right there at the front door, and it’s late enough in the day for people to be milling about. Watching. As the youngest Milton boy hops out of a cop car and is escorted to his front door by a woman with ‘sheriff’ written across her back.

God, Castiel is going to _die_.

But the more he protests, the more stubborn Jody gets. He says she has no reason to follow him, she says Dean isn’t the type to be over-dramatic. Castiel counters that the word of a boy who’s only met Michael once doesn’t deserve this kind of attention. Jody tells him that technically, she should’ve escorted every single one of them home after catching them out after the ten o’clock curfew, and Castiel doesn’t want to keep her from turning a blind eye for the rest of his friends, does he?

It’s a cold move, but Castiel can’t argue with that one. He keeps his silence until they reach the front door of the bungalow. Jody puts her hands in her pockets and watches him expectantly, until he works up the nerve to knock on the door. It opens instantly, before he’s even withdrawn his hand, as if someone had been waiting for him.

Someone has. Castiel’s hand drops as his back straightens and his skin goes cold.

“Mother,” he whispers. “I-... hello.”

Naomi Milton cuts a formidable figure, in her gray pantsuit and heels, her auburn hair drawn up in a bun behind her head. Every detail is perfect, down to the pleats and pearls, and her smile is calm, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Castiel,” she says smoothly, “I knew you’d find your way home eventually.”

“Of course, Mother,” Castiel rushes to say, “I would never-”

“You had your brothers worried sick.” It’s only now that she seems to notice Jody, which is perhaps what helps Castiel to realize that Jody has placed a hand on his back. It’s comforting, supportive, and tension starts to slowly eke out of his muscles like the morning fog. “And you are?”

“Sheriff Mills, ma’am,” Jody says, her voice stiff and professional. Naomi raises an eyebrow and starts to turn back to her son, but Jody laughs disarmingly. “Cas hasn’t done anything wrong, ma’am, I’m sorry if I startled you. He lives so much further from the beach than the other kids, I thought he’d appreciate a ride.”

“Other kids?” Naomi says, still staring Castiel down. “May I ask which beach he was at, Sheriff?”

“The one down in Sileas.”

“Ah.” That strange little tight-lipped smile returns. “Which other kids?”

“Charlie Bradbury, Jo Harvelle, Pam Barnes, and Dean Winchester. No one to worry about, I promise you.” Jody laughs again, and Castiel feels a rush of affection for her, that she’s trying so hard to make this easier on him. “He would’ve been-”

“Dean Winchester?” Naomi interrupts, and suddenly Michael appears at her shoulder. “That’s the boy you’ve been telling me about, isn’t it?” Michael nods quickly, turning to Castiel and imitating their mother’s little smile. Like Castiel, Michael favors their tall, dark-haired grandfather when it comes to appearance, but it’s moments like these where his more maternal influences start to appear.

“Well, Castiel,” Naomi continues, stepping out onto the porch and clasping her hands behind her back. “I believe your brother told you not to see that boy anymore, is that correct?”

“Yes ma’am,” Castiel says softly. Jody’s hand moves in a soothing circle between his shoulderblades, and he closes his eyes, drinking her kindness in and using it to fuel his courage. “But Dean is my friend, Mother. They all are. We don’t cause any trouble, we just… watch movies and talk about books and play games.”

Naomi lifts an eyebrow, then shakes her head, tutting softly. “I can’t say he’s been a good influence on you, Castiel. Just look at your behavior as of late. Sneaking out, lying, asking Gabriel to lie for you… and Michael told me what you did last night.” She looks so genuinely disappointed that Castiel can’t help feeling guilty for what he’s done. Yes, Dean and Charlie and Jo are his friends, but they are not his family, and perhaps he has been neglecting his siblings. “I think Michael was right to tell you not to spend time with that boy anymore, and frankly, your brother’s decision should have been enough. You know he’s in charge while we’re gone, I shouldn’t have to worry about you kids like this when I’m already so busy with your uncle’s work.”

“Of course not, Mother,” Castiel says. “I’m sorry.”

He starts to pull away from Jody’s touch, back into the house, to find out what his punishment is, but Jody clears her throat, pulling everyone’s attention towards her.

“If I may,” Jody says slowly, though she ignores the way Naomi’s eyebrow raises, signifying that she certainly may not. “I understand that Castiel has been out of line. Sneaking out, running off… I have a son too, and I would be just as angry if he were the one on trial here. But, out of curiosity… what did Dean do?”

Naomi tilts her head. “Excuse me?”

“Why was Castiel banned from seeing Dean in the first place? He wouldn’t have snuck out or lied if it wasn’t forbidden, so I’m just wondering why it was forbidden at all.”

Castiel takes in a short breath, something flickering in his heart. His mother frowns deeply, then turns to Michael for an explanation. Put on the spot, Michael actually hesitates, and the panic in his blue eyes, the childish humanity of it, reminds Castiel of better days when Michael was just his brother, rather than an authority figure to be obeyed. “I just… didn’t think it was a good idea for Castiel to be wasting his time in town with those kids when he could be here making real connections.”

And now, Castiel can’t stop himself. That flicker in his chest starts to burn, powerful and bright and angry, as he snaps, “What do you know about real connections, Michael?”

His family looks genuinely surprised, and Castiel revels in it for a moment, especially when he sees, from the corner of his eye, Jody hiding a smile behind her hand.

When Michael finally composes himself, he’s scowling. “Castiel, what does Dean have to offer you? Can he get you into a good school? Get you an internship, or a job? His mother is a _waitress_ , Castiel, why are you wasting time with a _waitress’s_ son when you have children of senators and bankers and CEOS right here?”

Castiel’s anger is so righteous, he can feel it burning in his bloodstream, practically glowing. “Dean _cares_ about me. He _understands_ me. Dean is an _artist_ , he’s going to do great things someday, and he has a _soul_. That’s more than I can say for you, brother.”

Naomi breathes his name, the beginning of a reprimand, and Jody steps in again. “So the issue here is that Dean is, what… too low class for you?” Her tone makes no secret of how ridiculous she finds this, and Castiel suddenly longs to hug her when she laughs. “All right, well, I just had to ask. Guess you never considered that diamonds come from coal.”

Naomi makes an indignant noise, her hands clenching at her sides, though she’s still the put-together image of power: her fists line up perfectly with her pleats, and though her blue eyes are blazing, that’s the only indication of how genuinely angry she is. She directs her glare at Michael, a silent command, then turns on her heel to go back into the house. Michael is frowning in Castiel’s direction, though Castiel is surprised to realize he doesn’t care.

“Come inside, Castiel. We need to discuss your behavior.” Michael’s voice is tempered but firm; if a fight erupts, it won’t be out here on the porch. Castiel turns to Jody, who looks back at him with sympathy, as if she wants to interfere but can’t. An angry mother or brother is not necessarily an abusive one, although Castiel is sure if he told her he felt unsafe, she’d take him straight back into town.

But Castiel doesn’t feel unsafe. He feels agitated, exhausted, ignored… and _righteous_. His mother feels that Dean has had an influence on him, and she’s not entirely wrong.

Castiel takes a deep breath and smiles at Jody. “Thanks for the ride,” he says. “I’ll see you around.”

“Hey.” Jody reaches into her jacket pocket as Castiel starts to step inside, and hands him a business card. “Call if you need anything.”

They both look at Michael, who only tightens his jaw before retreating back to the kitchen. Castiel smiles again.

“I will. Thank you.”

Jody smiles back and touches Castiel’s shoulder before heading down the front steps and back towards the parking lot. Castiel studies her business card for a moment, then tucks it in his pocket. He’s fairly certain he’ll never need it, but it can’t hurt to keep it as leverage, can it?

Castiel closes the front door behind him, and can hear voices in the kitchen. Whispered words of contempt towards Jody, towards Castiel’s new friends; soft shock at the thought that Castiel chooses to spend time around these people,  and concern that they will corrupt him.

Again, Castiel remembers that he has been choosing these people over his own family, but this time, he feels no guilt. If this is corruption, it’s too late to save him now.

He can’t help smiling at the thought.

 

\-----

 

There are no smiles when the sun sets and Castiel is finally allowed to retreat to his room. The verdict is guilty and the sentence is grounded, indefinitely. No whining, no complaining, no sneaking out with Gabriel. Even his phone has been confiscated, so he can’t text Dean to let him know.

And that might be the worst part. Dean probably thinks Castiel is angry with him. Dean was certainly hurt by what Castiel last said to him, and Castiel can’t do anything to apologize.

He’s here, in his room, with his book. Just as he was not even a month ago. How quickly things change. How easily people become embedded in your life. Castiel briefly considers sneaking out once everyone’s asleep, but of course he’d just get caught. Every time he’s stayed out late, he’s gotten caught, and if he pushes too much, they might just leave Sileas altogether and never come back.

So he closes his eyes and tries to sleep. But his dreams are plagued with sand and saltwater and summer green eyes.

  


**June 26th, 2005**

Castiel spends the day with Anna, letting her tell him everything about all the music she listens to. It all runs together at some point: The Killers, Kanye West, Green Day, Fall Out Boy… and in the end, it only makes him think that his little sister would get along well with Jo, probably Sam and Sarah too, and that just makes him ache inside.

  


**June 27th, 2005**

The resort’s private beach is quiet and calm. Lucifer falls asleep spread out on a towel, and Anna eventually gives up and goes back inside to watch MTV. Gabriel didn’t even bother to come with.

Castiel sits a good distance away from Lucifer, reading his father’s latest draft of the new _Supernatural_ novel; since Kyriel proved popular, Chuck Milton wants to use the character a little longer, but won’t do so without Castiel’s approval. It doesn’t make up for his prolonged absences in his childrens’ lives, but seeing Kyriel written with the same reverence as Jared and Jensen makes Castiel smile. The character is overly serious, devoted to his cause, and while Castiel doesn’t feel that’s who he is, he can understand why his father would portray him that way. That’s how people see him when they don’t know him, after all.

But the affection is there. And Kyriel is far better than Lucifer’s namesake, that’s for certain.

Castiel sets the draft aside and leans back on his elbows with a sigh. Dean will like this installment. Maybe, if Castiel asks nicely, he can get Father to send Dean a signed copy when it’s published.

But then he sighs again. Pipe dreams.Trapped in this gilded cage with no phone, he’ll never see Dean again at this rate, and eventually will become nothing more than a fond memory to the small-town boy with summer green eyes. He wonders, briefly, if Dean could ever become just a memory to him, once he goes back to school and finds other people to talk to, trust fund boys and girls his mother would approve of.

Maybe he just hasn’t lived long enough yet, but he doubts he could ever think of Dean as ‘just a boy.’ Had Dean been a girl, he’s fairly certain he could’ve showed up at school with a summer love story to sing about. Like _Grease_. Watching that movie had been Jo’s idea, and though Dean had made a big fuss, and made fun of the songs and characters throughout the film, Castiel had seen the drawing in Dean’s sketchbook: Danny Zuco with his pompadour and leather jacket, a cigarette between pouted lips. It was far too accurate and affectionate to be a joke, and Castiel smiles to himself, digging his toes in the sand. No, Dean’s not just a boy, and never just a memory.

Anna has been bragging about her MySpace for a while, pushing Castiel to join her on the site and raise her friend count. If Dean has a MySpace, maybe that’s a way to keep in touch while Castiel is away at school, no parents or older siblings around to tell him no.

Feeling a little bit more hopeful, Castiel picks up his father’s draft and starts to read again. Kyriel has faith in Jared and Jensen, though the other angels look down on humans as little more than cockroaches. Though Castiel feels a rush of affection for his character, for what his father is attempting to create, he doesn’t stop to think about why that may be.

  


**June 29th, 2005**

Gabriel ropes Castiel into watching a Queer Eye marathon in the afternoon. Castiel isn’t particularly interested in the show, but it’s better than sitting alone in his room. Anna joins them after a while, but when she gets up to make some popcorn, Gabriel slides down the couch to whisper in Castiel’s ear, “I know where they hid your phone.”

“Where?”

“Can’t say.” Castiel scowls, preparing for some sort of punchline, but the look Gabriel gives him is void of any sort of amusement. “They check it to see if it’s still there, so you can’t steal it back. Not unless you plan on returning it before Michael gets home every day.”

That could work, except Castiel is sure at some point he would forget, or he wouldn’t do it soon enough, and who knows what Michael would do then? “Okay, then what’s your point?”

“I texted your friend, so he knows what’s going on and why you’ve been M.I.A.” When Castiel’s eyebrows fly up, Gabriel laughs. “He was blowing up your phone and threatening to call the cops. Michael asked me to deal with it so he’d leave us alone.”

Castiel hesitates, chewing on his lower lip. “It was Dean you told? You’re certain?”

“Yeah. There are lots of texts waiting for you on that thing, but Dean was the one being persistently nasty, so he’s the one I figured would want to hear it.”

So Dean knows. And once that thought is processed, Castiel is blindsided by giddiness: Dean is still standing by him. Despite his absence, despite his silence, Dean is still looking out for Castiel and trying to bring him back into the fold. How could he have ever thought Dean would write him off as just a boy to be remembered fondly? Dean is true, and he’s loyal, and he will fight for Castiel, and Castiel giggles softly, unable to help himself.

It’s Gabriel’s turn to raise an eyebrow, and he opens his mouth to say something, but Anna returns just then, and the opportunity is lost.


	4. The Glow In Our Wires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for some violence and underage drinking

_I come alive as the shadows parade_   
_My hot summer blood comes in floods and in waves_  
 _Curbside confessions, no longer afraid of what you’ll say_

\- “ **Streetlights** ,” Ludo

 

**July 1st, 2005**

When there’s a knock on the door just before 10pm, Michael’s head immediately swivels in Castiel’s direction. Which, frankly, is uncalled for, considering Castiel has tried to be good and still hasn’t gone to find his phone or attempt to contact his friends. So Castiel scowls right back at Michael, while Lucifer takes it upon himself to actually answer the door.

“Oh! Good evening, Miss Talbot,” comes from the doorway, and Castiel’s annoyance immediately turns into surprise. He leans over the back of the couch, and yes, that’s Bela in a short, shiny dress, her hair tousled to frame her bright red smile when she notices him.

“You’re not even dressed yet!” Bela scolds, stepping past Lucifer to approach a shell-shocked Castiel. “Did you forget?”

Forget? Forget what, a half-hearted promise a self-absorbed princess made weeks ago? Honestly, Castiel thought she was the one who had forgotten about him. “I… no. I just. Didn’t realize how late it was,” he stammers, pushing himself off the couch. “I’ll go change. Sorry.”

Bela pouts playfully at him. Michael, however, looks delighted as he ushers her towards the empty space Castiel left behind, apologizing and engaging her in polite conversation.

Castiel closes his bedroom door and pokes through his closet, trying to find a dress shirt and some nice trousers. Okay, maybe in all the drama with his family and Dean, he had tucked away and forgotten Bela’s offer to escort him to a backwoods party with her friends. He thought about it every once in a while, tried to picture what she’d wear or what would happen if they had a little too much to drink, but as the weeks went by with no sign of Bela, he’d shrugged it off. It wasn’t a huge loss, when Dean and his friends were so much more interesting.

But then Dean and his friends were out of reach, and Castiel remembers what it was that made Bela pay attention to him in the first place: they both know Dean. Dean might be at this… get-together, for lack of a better word. Suddenly, Castiel is smiling, moving with a bit more purpose, making his decisions with a bit more care.

He picks out a pale blue button-down and a pair of khakis, and even takes the time to try and brush his hair. He opts out of the tie and dress shoes. Michael will frown at this decision, but his reaction would be far worse if he found mud on those nice shoes, or suspicious stains on those expensive ties. Better safe than sorry, Castiel thinks. At least his trainers are already muddy.

Bela’s lips form a red little ‘o’ when he emerges, as though she hadn’t expected him to clean up nicely. She quickly collects herself, however, standing up and hooking her arm through Castiel’s. It’s the same gesture Jo used the night they met, but Jo was attempting to be warm and inclusive. Bela is only putting on a show. For the millionth time, pain rings in Castiel’s chest as he thinks of his friends.

Technically, Castiel is still grounded, but no one thinks to mention this. Michael still looks like Christmas came early, ushering them out the door with a gooey smile and a wink in Castiel’s direction. Once the door is closed behind them, Bela drops Castiel’s arm and turns to reappraise him on her own terms.

“Play your cards right, and you just might get lucky tonight, tiger,” she says after a moment, smiling when Castiel’s eyebrows raise. He starts to ask her what the hell that means, but before he gets the chance, she’s leading the way off the porch and out to the parking lot, where her father ordered a car to take them into town.

“Daddy thinks we’re going to the movies,” Bela says, once they’re on the road. She’s talking to her compact again, touching up her lipstick, since apparently she prefers to look at her own face instead of her companion’s. “He doesn’t actually care too much what I get up to, so long as it’s with a name he recognizes.” She puts the lipstick away, pulls out a tissue to blot with. “So we’ve got all night, darling.”

“What are we really doing?” Castiel asks, watching her even as she refuses to watch him, hating that he can’t look away. But it all seems worth it when her green eyes flicker his way, just for an instant, before she smiles into the little mirror again.

“You’re friends with Dean, isn’t that right? Well, tonight, I’m going to introduce you to his…” she pauses, then grins as she claps her compact shut. “His _underground_ friends, let’s say.

Bela scoots down the seat, sitting close enough that their thighs touch, and though she does nothing else until the car pulls up outside the movie theater, Castiel can’t stop thinking about the heat simmering in his blood from her proximity. Is she just playing a game with him, or is she actually flirting? Castiel knows a couple of girls at school who are infatuated with him, but one of them tends to just blush and giggle whenever he’s nearby, and the other acts out, brash and bossy, to get his attention. It’s not this subtle intent, which Bela seems to work as almost an artform.

The way she had looked at him at the bungalow, had reappraised him and come on to him, maybe she does find him attractive. But does that mean anything? Castiel hasn’t even kissed a girl yet, embarrassing as that may be at his age, and here’s Bela promising more than just a kiss with the soft sway of her hips, the brush of her hand, a toss of her hair.

Castiel is so preoccupied, he doesn’t even notice where they’re going until they’re well past the tree line. “Um,” he starts, but Bela shushes him. She’s carrying her strappy black heels in one hand, moving forward in a pair of flats, and Castiel doesn’t even remember her stopping to change her shoes. Up ahead, he can hear laughter, shouts, and glass breaking. “Um,” he tries again, but Bela just turns and glares at him until he bites his lower lip and watches the ground instead.

It’s so dark out that Castiel isn’t sure how she knows just where to go without a flashlight, but then he supposes she’s made the trip enough times that it doesn’t matter. Besides, when he looks up again, he can see the cool glow of a lantern through the trees up ahead, the same place that the voices are coming from. Bela slows down until she’s walking next to him and takes his hand. Immediately, his heartbeat picks up, and his mouth goes dry. _Play your cards right_ , echoes through his head, and he tries to smile when she quirks an eyebrow at him.

“These guys can be kinda rough,” she says, the first words she’s spoken since before they got out of the car. “But I guess you already know that, if you’re hanging out with Dean. Just stick with me.” Her shoulder brushes against his, just a little touch making hope explode in fireworks across his skin. “I’ll protect you.”

But despite the tizzy his body is going into, Castiel can’t help feeling sad. She’s teasing him, trying to draw him in, playing with him like a toy, and he knows it. He knows it because Dean has made the same promise, and meant it. Dean meant it enough that he made the town sheriff check up on the situation. Castiel can’t stop himself from reacting to Bela’s little touches, can’t keep his brain from buzzing whenever he thinks of those words ( _you might get lucky tonight_ ), but maybe if he keeps reminding himself that he’s little more than a doll to her, he’ll still be able to respect himself in the morning.

Bela gently tugs at Castiel’s hand, leading him into a clearing bathed in bluish light. There’s a pair of girls leaning up against a tree, passing a bottle in a brown paper bag back and forth. Closer to the lantern are a trio of boys, one of whom looks old enough to be a senior, or perhaps even older. When he smiles at Bela, the other two turn around, and Castiel can’t help smiling when he realizes one of those two is Dean.

Dean, however, raises his eyebrows and takes in a slow breath when he recognizes Castiel, then immediately turns back around, taking a swig from a long, clear bottle and rubbing at his face. Castiel’s smile drops, but Bela’s tugging on his hand again, gesturing for him to sit down next to Dean. The other two girls approach, one of them pulling a pair of black leggings out of the bag at her hip. “You shoulda told me you were bringing a date, Bela,” the girl teases, tossing her blonde hair off her shoulder as Bela takes the offered leggings and starts to pull them on. “I would’ve brought something more comfy for him too.”

“He’ll be fine,” Bela mutters, sitting next to Castiel, close enough that their knees and elbows touch. Castiel feels like she’s staking a claim as she stares this older girl down. “Cas, can I introduce you?”

“Sure?” Castiel says, momentarily taken aback by her use of his nickname.

“That’s Lilith,” Bela says, pointing to the blonde girl. Lilith just smiles at him, slowly, until Castiel feels like a piece of meat in a tiger trap. “The other one’s Ruby.” A brunette with flushed cheeks waves a hand; she seems far less troublesome, or at least less interested, potentially just more drunk. “Alastair and Azazel are the gargoyles to your right.” The boy with light-colored eyes looks up, annoyed, but the older one just smiles serenely and shakes his head. Bela elbows Castiel and smirks. “You already know Prince Dean.”

Dean doesn’t move. He stares at the nearly-empty bottle in his lap, breathing slowly, and Castiel frowns, a little hurt. This is the first time they’ve seen each other in almost a week, and Dean knows that Castiel’s been on lockdown, but he won’t even spare a glance for him? So much for Kirk and Spock.

Bela places a hand on Castiel’s knee, drawing his attention back to her. “This, my friends, is Castiel Milton. Be nice and say hello.”

Lilith just keeps smiling at him, and Azazel waves a reluctant hand. Alastair smirks at Bela. “I thought you only went around with boys that had something to offer to society, Bela. Ain’t that what you told me?”

His voice is raspy and lilting, but something about it sends a chill down Castiel’s neck. Bela smirks, apparently used to it by now. “Yes. I meant what I said, Al.”

“No offense, Cas, but what do you have to offer society? You’re just a kid.”

Dean finally looks up, but it’s to glare in Alastair’s direction, which Castiel takes as a small comfort. Before he or Dean can speak, however, Bela beats them to it.

“His family gives him quite a boost, I think.” She smiles at Castiel, and for a moment he thinks that fawning gaze is real. “His mother is part of the Adler family, you know, that preacher that comes on TV sometimes? But his father’s where it gets interesting.”

_Oh no_.

Dean turns to Bela, his eyes alight with curiosity. Castiel squeezes her hand, tries to shush her, but she waves him off, apparently eager to pop his family’s balloon of privacy just for the opportunity to gloat.

“His father is Chuck Milton, also known as Carver Edlund, author of the _Supernatural_ series.”

Castiel turns back to Dean, trying to quell his panic. Dean is finally looking at him, finally meeting his eyes, and Castiel sees hurt there, betrayal, and anger, before Dean turns back to the bottle in his lap, taking a long drink. The lines of his body are tense, his fingers fidgeting, and Castiel sighs.

“I’ve read those!” says Ruby, which leads Castiel to look up. The other kids are appropriately impressed; even Alastair seems to be reappraising him, which makes Castiel wonder if his father’s books are reaching further than he thought. “I haven’t read the newest one,” Ruby continues, “haven’t had the time, but I thought they were pretty good.”

Castiel glances at Dean again, but he only moves to toss his bottle away, refusing to meet Castiel’s eyes.

Alastair pulls out another long, clear bottle and starts to pass it around. Encouraged by Bela and Lilith, Castiel takes his first drink of vodka. It’s sharp and bitter, burning down his throat, and the girls laugh at his expression once he’s done. Lilith crawls over to sit on Castiel’s other side, shoving Dean away, so she and Bela can continue goading Castiel into drinking. Castiel knows it’s a bad idea. He’s heard all the peer pressure speeches from counselors and teachers and his brothers. But Bela kisses his earlobe every time she whispers in his ear, and Lilith is pressed up against his bicep, and it’s more than a little overwhelming, and certainly very hard to say no.

Castiel is only just feeling tipsy when someone wrenches the bottle from his hands and tosses it into the woods. The glass shatters, and Azazel yells, “What the fuck, that bottle was thirty bucks!” But Castiel just keeps his eyes on Dean, who is staring down at him, backlit by the lantern, terrifying in the shadows that hide his eyes.

“What’s got your knickers in a twist, Winchester?” Bela snaps, her lower lip pouted out. Dean turns his glare towards her, and she shrinks back a little, gripping Castiel’s shoulder.

“Are you jealous of little Castiel?” Lilith purrs. “Pretty angel stealing all your girls away?”

Ruby laughs from somewhere Castiel can’t see, but Dean just takes a deep breath before speaking the first words Castiel’s heard him say all night:

“Let’s get this over with.”

What, Castiel wants to ask, but Alastair and Azazel are making approving noises, trying to stand on their own. Bela smiles at Castiel as she stands, and she exchanges an amused look with Lilith when Castiel struggles to find his balance. Did he really drink that much? Each girl grabs an arm, attempting to pull him up, only to end up laughing when they inevitably fall backwards.

Dean rolls his eyes and grabs the lantern, handing it to Lilith when she gets up again. “You guys go ahead, I’ll help Cas.”

Lilith shrugs, lifting the lantern as she heads back into the woods. Ruby, Alastair, and Azazel follow her, but Bela pouts at Dean. “Castiel is my date, I should help him.”

“Yeah, nah, that’s not happening,” Dean says, leaning down and pulling one of Castiel’s arms around his shoulders. “You shouldn’t have brought him here in the first place, I’m sure as hell not letting you pull your shit on him.”

Castiel blinks slowly, surprised, as Dean helps him to stand. After Dean’s anger, after his silence, he’s still going to try and protect Castiel? A spark flickers in Castiel’s chest, and though it’s small, it spreads quickly, and is far more comforting than anything he’s ever felt with Bela.

“Go on,” Dean says, and though Bela is still pouting, she picks up her shoes and heads off after Lilith’s light. Dean exhales slowly through his nose before he starts walking. Castiel finds that he can walk better than he can stand, but Dean might still be the only thing keeping him upright.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says. Dean huffs again, readjusting his arm around Castiel’s back.

“For what,” Dean mutters, “for showing up here, with Bela? Not telling me about your dad? Not even trying to get in touch with me while you were on lockdown?"

"That's not fair." Castiel frowns. "Gabe said he texted you, you knew I didn't have my phone-"

"You still coulda tried!" Dean rubs his free hand over his mouth, doesn't bother looking at Cas. The lantern light is far ahead of them, the others' voices barely audible. "You gave your brother the bird and ran off, but you can't bother to steal your phone back for five minutes?" Dean shakes his head. "Mixed signals, man."

"Sorry I'm not as skilled in the art of rebellion as you are, Dean," Castiel says flatly.

They fall silent for a moment, both angry and trying not to stumble as they walk downhill through rough terrain, with only each other for balance. The lantern is getting further and further away, but Dean doesn’t seem to be in any hurry, so Castiel doesn’t worry about it. He does, however, miss his footing and skid in the dirt before falling on his face, dragging Dean down with him.

Castiel lays there, unable to think of a reason to get back up, but Dean is shuffling around next to him, and finally snaps, “Dammit, Cas,” so Castiel opens his eyes and peers up at his friend. Dean is sitting cross-legged on the ground, slumped over and glaring at Castiel.

“What,” Castiel groans, finally pushing himself up, but only enough so he can roll over onto his back. The moon is full, or almost full, and light is escaping through the treetops, just enough to see each other by.

“I’m gonna guess you’ve never gotten drunk before,” Dean mutters.

“Nope.”

“Surprise, surprise.” Dean sighs softly. “You should’ve told me about your dad.”

“Yeah,” Castiel agrees. Dean raises his eyebrows. “I probably should’ve. But I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

Castiel shrugs. He’ll probably regret getting dirt all over his good clothes, but right now it’s just nice to be back out in the world with Dean. “Father is very protective of his privacy, and our family’s privacy. It never even occurred to me not to keep it secret.” He glances up at Dean, hoping his eyes can express his sincerity, the way Dean’s can. “I didn’t do it to be cruel, or to trick you. I am sorry.”

Dean watches him closely for a moment, then turns away, fiddling with something in his lap. “Are you dating Bela?” he asks. Castiel laughs without thinking.

“I don’t think she really likes me at all,” he explains when Dean gives him a strange look. “I don’t think I even like her.”

“Then why are you here with her?” Dean tosses something out into the woods as Castiel finally sits up, mirroring Dean’s position, facing in the opposite direction.

“To see you,” Castiel answers honestly. Dean sits up straight, eyes wide, and Castiel smiles when he realizes that, if the sun were out, he’d be able to see Dean’s cheeks turning pink. Dean tries to cover up his embarrassment with an awkward laugh, a little shrug.

“Stop doing that to me, that honesty thing,” Dean says, running a hand through his hair. “Gotta give a guy a warning before you drop a chick-flick moment on him.”

Castiel laughs quietly, picking up a twig by his ankles and using it to doodle aimlessly in the dirt. Whatever it is Bela and Lilith and the others are doing, it’s certainly not as important as this. “Dean, have you dated girls before?”

“Of course,” Dean answers, smirking again.

“And kissed them?”

“Absolutely.” Dean rolls his eyes. “Why would you even ask that?”

“Well, Charlie did say you were a virgin.”

Dean scowls outright, though it fades when Castiel turns to him with a smile. “One of these days,” Dean says, pointing his own stick in Castiel’s face, “I’m gonna start figuring out when you’re being a little shit, and then you won’t be so funny.”

“I’ll worry about that in twenty years,” Castiel says. “How many girls have you kissed?”

Dean has to think about it, which is honestly a little worrisome until he finally sighs and admits, “Just the one.”

Castiel blinks at him. “That’s it?”

“I’m only fifteen,” Dean says with a shrug. “What makes you think there’d be more than that?”

Truthfully, Castiel’s not sure. Dean is good-looking, for one thing, and constantly surrounded by girls, for another. But out here, in the woods, with just the moonlight and trees for company, Dean has no reason to lie, and Castiel can’t think of a reason why he would. “Never mind. Could you tell me what it’s like, then?”

Now it’s Dean’s turn to be surprised. “You’ve never been kissed?”

“Don’t act so shocked, Dean. Like you, I’m only fifteen.”

“Yeah, but…” Dean trails off, biting on his lower lip. “Why do you want to know?”

Castiel fidgets for a moment, then tosses his stick away before leaning into Dean’s shoulder. “Bela told me tonight, if I play my cards right, I might get lucky.”

Dean goes still for a tense second, then slowly leans away, green eyes darting over Castiel’s face. “You do know,” he says carefully, “‘getting lucky’ is more than just a kiss, right?”

“Just because I don’t go to public school, doesn’t mean I’m a naive, asocial idiot. I _know_ what it means.” Castiel huffs, leaning back on his hands to look at the moon.

“Don’t you mean ‘anti-social?’”

“No.” Castiel’s eyes narrow. “I mean, ‘Shut the fuck up, Dean.’”

But Dean is grinning despite Castiel’s glare, and after a moment, Castiel can’t help laughing. Soon, they’re both laid out on their backs, giggling alone in the woods, and every time their eyes meet, the giggles start anew. It’s pleasant and it’s comfortable, and Castiel briefly wonders if the others are waiting for them, but then Dean is sitting up again.

“Seriously, though, I think I see what you’re getting at. If you don’t want to kiss her, then don’t kiss her, it’s that simple.”

“But when will I have this opportunity again?” Castiel asks, sitting up and twisting around, so that he and Dean are both facing towards the town. Warm little lights are glowing beyond the treeline down the hill, stable and still. “A pretty girl eager to kiss me?”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Are you fucking serious?” He asks, deadpan. Castiel meets his gaze, but doesn’t respond, and Dean lets out a breathy little laugh. “Really?” He says, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “Seriously?” Castiel tilts his head, confused, which just makes Dean laugh again. “Okay, dude, no homo, but you’re hot. Okay?”

Castiel reels back, blinking at Dean. “Excuse me?”

“I said ‘no homo,’ calm your tits!” Dean chuckles, shaking his head. “Bed-head, blue eyes, clear skin, you’re golden. From a completely objective point of view, of course.” He clears his throat, turning his eyes back to the moonlit trees. “You’re going to have hundreds of opportunities to kiss somebody else before you even turn sixteen.”

Castiel sighs. “I’ll be sixteen in September.”

“My point still stands.”

A grin fights its way onto Castiel’s face. “So what you’re saying is, because I’m ‘objectively’ hot, I’ll have hundreds of opportunities to kiss somebody over the next two months?”

“Yep.”

“Then you’ll have thousands of opportunities.”

Dean turns to blink at Cas before a bark of laughter escapes him. “Is that your way of saying I’m sexy?” he asks, but Castiel just casually shrugs his shoulders.

“No homo, Dean.”

Again, that sudden jolt of laughter, and Castiel joins him this time, leans against him and soaks up his warmth. If this is what being drunk is like, then Castiel is going to have to do it again, and soon. But that train of thought comes to a crashing halt when Dean turns and gently presses his lips to Castiel’s.

They both freeze, staring directly into each other’s round eyes. For a long moment, neither moves; it’s just a dry touching of mouths, motionless, and Castiel feels a little numb with the shock. It’s like the whole world’s gone still; even the woods are quiet except for the soft sound of the wind in the trees.

Dean pulls away first, and now he’s blushing bright enough that Castiel can see it in the moonlight. They continue to gape at one another, Dean’s jaw working as if he wants to speak, but Castiel manages to beat him to it:

“You kissed me.”

Dean bites his upper lip, cheeks still glowing pink.

“Why did you kiss me?”

“I didn’t mean to!” Dean argues, his voice cracking mid-sentence. “I just turned and you were there and then oops, our mouths touched!”

Castiel brings his fingertips to his lips, muffling his next words: “You just stole my first kiss!”

“I did _not_!”

“Did _so_!”

“No!” Dean throws his hands up, sending dirt and leaves scattering into the air. “I did you a favor!”

“How?!” Now it’s Castiel’s voice that cracks.

Dean takes a moment to fidget, glancing around as if to ensure they’re alone. “Now, if Bela kisses you, it doesn’t have to be your first.”

Castiel hesitates, thinking it over. Yeah, he was concerned about having his first kiss, about whether or not he wanted to kiss a girl he doesn’t particularly care for, but that doesn’t mean he wanted Dean to take the spot. “So it was Bela, or you?” He says slowly, squinting at Dean. “I thought you just said I’d have hundreds of opportunities, I didn’t need you taking that choice away from me?”

“But did I?” Dean says. “Did I really?”

Castiel continues to watch Dean, and only realizes now that he’s leaning away as Dean leans in. “Explain.”

Dean takes a moment, making thoughtful little noises as he tries to organize his thoughts. “Okay. Yeah, sure, that was a kiss. But was it really? I mean, it was an accident, kinda, and we didn’t even move or open our mouths or anything, and we’re both guys!” He holds his hands out, palms up, and gives up an awkward smile. “Does it even count?”

“Does it?” Castiel shoots back. “You tell me.”

“No, that’s your decision.” Dean scoots across the dirt, until their knees are touching, leaning into Castiel’s face as if challenging him to move away. Castiel doesn’t budge. “I think that’s what I’m trying to say. You get to choose what’s meaningful enough to be remembered forever. Is it an accident with your best friend? Is it a rich girl you don’t even like? Or maybe it’s neither, and you’re gonna wait for the right girl. That’s okay too.”

Castiel stares at him. “You’re drunk,” he accuses, even though Dean’s words have struck a chord in him. It’s a nice thought, and though he keeps telling himself it’s not realistic, that’s not how it works, Dean’s rambling little apology settles in, wiggles around and makes itself at home.

So Castiel smiles. “Do you think the others are still waiting for us?”

Dean’s face crumples, and he makes a strange little groaning noise. “Probably,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Alastair doesn’t like to start without me.”

Castiel tucks his feet under himself and manages to stand on his own, a little wobbly, but still upright. “What exactly is it that we’re doing tonight?”

The look Dean gives him is mournful, his eyes speaking volumes that Castiel doesn’t understand. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

\-----

When they cross the treeline again, back into open space, there’s nobody else in sight. Dean just sighs and starts leading Castiel back to the sidewalk. They’re not touching now, and Castiel isn’t sure if it’s because they’re both capable of moving without help, or because of the kiss. A little voice keeps whispering in his head, little worries, little fears, and Castiel suddenly grips Dean’s forearm.

“Was it meaningful for you?”

Dean turns to look at him, both eyebrows raised. “What?” Castiel’s eyes dart back to the trees, and in the glow of the streetlights, Dean’s cheeks start to color. “Oh. That. Was it what?”

“Meaningful,” Castiel states, trying to clarify what he’s looking for. “You said I get to choose whether it’s meaningful enough to be my first kiss. What do you choose?”

“I’ve already had my first kiss,” Dean mumbles, turning his face away. Castiel frowns and digs his nails into Dean’s arm until the boy yelps, loud enough that a dog starts to bark a few blocks away. “All right, all right! I don’t know, I can’t… I can’t say I have enough experience yet to know.” He smiles weakly. “Ask me again in a couple years.”

Castiel thinks it over, then nods once. “Okay. Same for me. We’ll talk about this in a couple years.”

Dean glances at him, chuckling softly. “You sound like you’re making an appointment,” he says, eyes aglow. Then, to Castiel’s surprise, Dean swings an arm around his shoulder, bringing him into an enthusiastic sideways hug. “Don’t ever change, Cas.”

\-----

Whatever it is this little troupe does at night, it must be something they do regularly, because Dean leads the way to an empty lot just south of the boardwalk, hidden from the main road by a wooden fence. The lock on the gate is broken, and as soon as Dean has ushered Cas through, Bela is approaching them, a hand on her hip. “Thought you’d decided to ditch me,” she says slowly, crossing her arms over her chest as she gives Cas a once over. Castiel only has time to wonder what she’s looking for before Lilith appears at her side, smirking.

“I told her you boys had probably found a better way to spend your time.” Lilith turns to Bela, who’s still studying Castiel. “Looks like I was wrong.” She winks at Dean, and his jaw twitches as he holds back some undoubtedly snarky response. “You’re lucky you showed up before Alastair got back, Dean. He wouldn’t have appreciated you sneaking out on your duties.”

Dean swallows, but manages to keep his face free of emotion. Castiel nudges Dean’s side. “What duties?” he asks when Dean turns to him.

“It’s…” Dean looks away, but not before Castiel sees shame shutter through his eyes. They’re close to the ocean, can hear the surf crashing and smell salt in the wind as it ruffles their hair. “I’m…”

“Dean’s hired muscle,” Lilith finishes for him, smirking again when Dean glares at her. She steps between Dean and Castiel, rests her chin on Castiel’s shoulder as her hands slide around his waist. There’s a flutter of excitement and heat pooling low in Castiel’s gut when she touches him, but he jerks away from her, discomforted by her forward behavior, by her clear intentions. Pam and Charlie had held him much the same way, but their touch had come with genuine affection, and he knew they wouldn’t take things any further than that. Such is not the case with Lilith.

Still, she takes Castiel’s rejection in stride, shrugging before putting a hand on her hip. “C’mon, Dean-o, don’t tell me you’re ashamed of your work.” She smiles wolfishly, dragging a hand through her hair. “You’re doing it for sweet little Sammy, isn’t that noble?”

“Shut up,” Dean growls, tugging at his sleeves and turning towards the fence. Ruby is sitting in the corner, another glass bottle in another brown bag bunched up in her hand, taking a long pull as Castiel watches. He wonders, briefly, how it’s so easy for them to get so much liquor, before his attention returns to Dean. To clenched fists and tense shoulders. And though Bela purses her lips and Lilith hides a smile behind her hand, Castiel still steps closer to Dean and puts a hand on his arm, trying to catch his eye.

“What does she mean, ‘hired muscle?’” Castiel asks softly. Dean keeps his head turned away, his jaw a tight line. “Dean?”

“You should go,” Dean says gruffly, stepping back and rubbing a hand over his face. “This doesn’t really concern you, and Bela shouldn’t have brought you anyway.”

“Excuse me,” Bela pipes up, crossing her arms over her chest. Both boys turn to her, though Dean quickly averts his eyes. “He’s _my_ date, Winchester, so you don’t get to decide that. And I was under the impression he already knew about all this, just for the record.”

Dean opens his mouth to argue with her, but he’s interrupted by scuffling noises on the other side of the fence. Ruby stands up and stumbles over to join the rest of the group, giving Castiel a smile when she bumps into his shoulder. He quickly puts an arm around her waist, to keep her from falling over. Both Bela and Lilith are glaring in his direction, but he ignores them - Ruby is just drunk. If they were better friends, they’d be helping her instead of enviously cursing her in their heads.

Alastair and Azazel come through the gate, carrying a teenage boy between them. The boy is dragging his feet, protesting quietly, attempting to jerk away, but their grip is strong and his pleas are falling on deaf ears.

Dean swallows and closes his eyes. Castiel shifts Ruby’s weight against his side, then glances at Dean. The pieces are starting to fall into place: a bad crowd of drunk kids, some possibly older, wasting time after dark in an abandoned lot. Dean, who has been such a beacon of light in Castiel’s life, is suddenly even more withdrawn and secretive, too ashamed to answer Castiel’s questions. And now, this unknown boy, thrown to his knees in front of Dean. He’s in his pajamas, no socks under his tennis shoes, and he seems to be well-aware of what’s going to happen to him now, as he stares up at Dean.

Dean, who has been so gentle. And kind. So generous and funny and welcoming.

Dean cracks his knuckles and takes a deep breath. “Do you have the money?” He asks, keeping his eyes on the boy in front of him. The boy glances over his shoulder at Alastair and Azazel, then twists back to Dean.

“I’ve paid half already, and I get paid on Friday, I’ll have the rest then.”

“They’ve already warned you twice,” Dean answers, his voice low and almost unrecognizable. “No such thing as a free party.”

“I swear, by Friday!” The boy fidgets, but Azazel fixes his grip, keeping him steady. “Please!”

But Dean doesn’t listen, or doesn’t care. Because as Castiel watches, Dean draws a fist back and punches the boy’s jaw. Castiel yells, but it’s drowned out by the sudden rising jeers of the other people around him. Even Ruby is shifting,  inadvertently dragging Castiel into the little circle that’s formed. She’s still heavy against his side even as she curses and encourages Dean, and Castiel is a little horrified to see Lilith and Bela doing the same. Dean lets another fist fly, this one making a terrible crunching noise, and Castiel finally drops Ruby when he sees the blood in the dirt, the boy’s split lip and crooked nose.

“Dean!” Castiel screams this time, but no one’s paying attention to him anymore. The circle draws in tighter, especially when Alastair and Azazel lift the boy up to give Dean a bigger space to choose from, arms and chest and stomach. The cheering is probably the only thing audible from the street, but Castiel can only hear the sound of knuckles and skin, the boy’s horrible groans, and Dean’s grunts of exertion. Castiel covers his ears, but that only seems to amplify the sound, sends it echoing in his head, until finally he can’t stand it anymore.

Castiel roughly grabs Dean’s shoulder and pulls him back, stepping between him and the boy and holding up his arms. Something hits him dead-center in his chest, but as soon as he’s leaning over, trying to protect himself, he feels arms around his shoulders, pulling him in, someone speaking his name.

There’s fingers in his hair, and whoever it is pulls too tight, drawing his head back and making him cry out, but then Dean is there, tugging him free and snarling, “Don’t you lay a fucking finger on him.”

“Your little boyfriend interrupted something very important, Dean,” and it’s Alastair’s voice, smooth and condescending. There’s almost no anger in it, just a sort of jovial threat. “We can’t have people thinking they can get out of paying their debts because some fool decided to play hero.”

“Fuck you, nobody’s hurting Cas.”

“We don’t owe him protection, he’s not on your list.”

“He is now!”

Castiel takes a deep breath and pulls himself away from Dean’s grip, turning to look at Alastair. He narrows his eyes, clutching his chest as he says, “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I won’t stand idly by and play witness to this needless violence.”

The corner of Alastair’s lips quirks up. “Then, by all means. Leave.”

Castiel hesitates, confused, and turns to Dean. Because even after what he’s witnessed, Dean is still a source of light in his life. And those green eyes are full of remorse and resignation, as if Dean fully expects Castiel to walk away and never look back now that he’s seen this. As if Dean still has no idea what he’s given Castiel, and how grateful Castiel has been to know him.

“Come with me,” Castiel whispers. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do.” Dean gently pushes Castiel out of the way. “Just go.”

The beaten boy is curled up on the ground, and he whimpers when Azazel and Alastair pick him up again. Dean swallows visibly, purposely avoiding Castiel’s horrified gaze as he draws his hand back again.

But his raw knuckles stay where they are. Dean clenches his fist, grits his teeth, but doesn’t move. “Cas, go!” He barks, still not meeting Castiel’s eyes.

“Stop fooling around,” Azazel snaps, practically pushing the boy into Dean’s space. “We have a deal.”

Dean screws his eyes shut, lets out a breath, and finally puts his fists back to work. Disappointment surges through Castiel’s veins, with sadness on its heels. Again, the jeering starts, and fails to drown out the sounds of flesh striking flesh. Castiel looks at Bela, and although she’s still smiling, still clapping her hands, she’s looking back at him with concern. He doesn’t bother to explain, just shakes his head, and turns to walk back to the gate.

The noise has stopped by the time he reaches the opening, but he doesn’t turn back. Not until he hears footsteps approaching, and Dean’s voice saying his name. “Cas, hold up.”

Castiel turns to look, to see that it’s just Dean, and the rest of this terrible crew is still in their circle a few yards away. “They let you go?” Cas asks quietly, holding the gate open for Dean to follow him through. Dean meets his eyes, and it’s the most intensely pitiful thing Castiel has ever seen.

“I’m done.” Dean swallows, his voice hoarse. “I never stay for the after-party anyway.”

They stare at each other for a long moment, and Castiel’s not sure what to think. It’s difficult to reconcile a Dean who breaks noses and leaves bruises with the clever, artistic, compassionate Dean he thought he knew. It occurs to him, again, that they’ve only known each other a few weeks, and realistically, he can’t know which is the real Dean. There’s an ache in Castiel’s chest, a bruise blossoming from when he stood between Dean and that poor boy, and he rubs at it absent-mindedly.

Dean winces when he notices. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t have time to stop myself. I wouldn’t hurt you on purpose.”

Castiel squints at him, then drops his hand and sighs. “Dean, what the hell is going on?”

Dean glances back at the gate, then puts a hand on Castiel’s arm, guiding him down the sidewalk. They’re on the south side of town, and it’ll be a long walk back to Dean’s place, let alone to the resort. Dean stays close, keeping his voice low. “I kinda made a deal with them,” he says after a moment of silence.

Castiel frowns.“What kind of deal?” When Dean’s jaw tightens, Castiel rolls his eyes and throws his hands up in frustration. “No, you need to tell me what I just saw back there, I deserve to know.”

“You deserve to know?” Dean snarls, though he quickly cows when he sees the glower on Castiel’s face.

“How am I supposed to trust you after that? How do I know who the real Dean is? How do I know you won’t snap and do the same thing to me?”

“Because that’s not how it works!” Dean says, almost pleading. “Cas, I’m not… some tortured animal waiting to snap. I…” He pauses to swallow, turning his gaze to his hands, where the knuckles are cut and glowing red. “When I lived in Topeka, I ran around with this bunch of other kids causing trouble. We’d pick fights and steal things and they’d get me to graffiti walls… all that stupid shit.” His hands clench into fists. “I did it to protect Sam. I knew, if I made a name for myself like that, no one would fuck with my little brother. But Mom got tired of the cops bringing me home, and that’s why we moved out here last summer. So Ellen and Bobby and Jo could help her keep an eye on me.”

Dean’s breath hitches, and he turns to Castiel with glassy eyes, glowing under the streetlights. “You can’t tell anybody what I’m about to tell you. Okay?”

“Dean, why-”

“Just promise me.” He smiles weakly and rubs at his face. “Jo and Charlie and everybody, they know I hang out with Alastair and those guys, but they don’t know what I do and they don’t know why I do it, and I don’t want them to. So please.”

Castiel bites his lip, then sighs. “Okay. I promise.”

Dean nods and closes his eyes. They’re alone on the street at this time of night, but Castiel gently grips Dean’s shoulder anyway, to guide him, just in case. “When we got here,” Dean says, “Sam immediately ran into trouble with Ruby. He’s a cute, innocent kid, y’know, just wants to make friends and kick a ball around, and Ruby’s there at the park watching him. She’s my age, so it seemed kinda harmless, until her creepy friends start joining her. Azazel was the one who approached him, and I’m on the other side of the field talking to Jo, so I don’t know what all was said. I just saw some fucking teenager pushing my brother and laughing at him.”

Dean pauses, opening his eyes, and smiles. “So I kick the guy’s ass.”

Castiel blinks, then laughs. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious. I just start wailing on him, and his so-called friends are just watching from the sidelines. Jo’s the one who pulled me off and got us to high-tail it out of there.” Dean rubs the back of his neck, taking a deep breath. “Alastair approached me a few days later. See, he kind of has his own little enterprise between Astoria, Sileas, and Seaside. Kids come to him so he can buy them booze for their parties. He charges them almost twice what it’s worth, but y’know, Mom and Dad are out of town, a kid wants to have a good time. So when he says they can pay it off bit by bit, they say okay.” Dean shakes his head. “But they almost always fall behind. And that’s where I come in.”

“You punish them,” Castiel says when Dean falls silent. “It’s your job to teach them a lesson about debt.”

“Yeah.”

“What, he thinks he’s Al Capone?”

Dean actually laughs. “I know. I know, it sounds fucking stupid, but it’s the truth. And I hate it, I hate hurting someone who just didn’t know what they were getting into, but…” And Dean stops walking, his shoulders slumped, all his energy gone. “But that’s the deal I made. If I take care of this side of Alastair’s business, he and his punks will leave my friends and family alone.”

And now it all makes sense. Now, Castiel feels like he can trust Dean again, like he knows who Dean really is deep down. He’s seen past the veil that even Jo, Charlie, and Sam can’t get around, and he smiles until Dean hesitantly smiles back.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Castiel says, his eyes locked on Dean’s. “They recruited you because they’re afraid of you.”

“Cas, don’t.” Dean’s smile becomes strained. “I’ve been doing this for a year now. I got kids all up the PCH who are scared to death of me. I get what you’re trying to do, but… don’t.”

“Dean, I just-”

“I know. Really. But I’m not looking for pep talks or anything like that. It is what it is: shitty. And I can’t change it now.”

Castiel watches him carefully for a moment, taking in the sadness and resignation in those green eyes. “Good things do happen, Dean,” he says, and Dean blinks before laughing.

“I know, Cas.”

They start walking again, side by side, in a comfortable silence. When they reach the corner, where the boardwalk can be seen from Main Street, they notice the white and brown sheriff’s car parked just out of the way. Of course, even as Dean has grabbed Cas’s arm and started dragging him across the street, Jody climbs out of the driver’s seat and starts to approach them. “Dean Winchester!” she calls as they reach the opposite curb, “You get over here right now, or I swear I will handcuff you and take you back to the Roadhouse to see your Mama!”

Dean groans, makes an exasperated face at Castiel, but turns and heads back to Jody anyway. Unsure of what else to do, Castiel follows. Jody raises an eyebrow when she recognizes him, but quickly returns her attention to Dean.

“Do you want to tell me what the hell you’re doing out here at this time of night?” She glances at Castiel again, then jerks a thumb in his direction. “With Cas, no less? Because I doubt his mother knows he’s out of the house, let alone out with you.”

“Cas was on a date that went haywire,” Dean says quickly, and it sounds like a lie even though Castiel knows it’s essentially the truth. “We met up and I was gonna take him back to the resort.”

“Is that so?” Jody crosses her arms over her chest and gives Dean a once over. “Then you want to tell me how your hands got all busted up?”

And when Dean shoves his hands in his pockets and winces, Castiel realizes that Jody knows. She knows that Dean hangs out with Alastair and his gang, and it’s possible she knows something about the rest of it too. But if she knows, then how are they getting away with it?

Because she can’t catch them.

“We saw this kid getting ganged up on,” Castiel interjects, and Jody turns to him in surprise. “A couple of big guys had him, and Dean stepped in to help.”

Dean’s jaw drops at this outright lie, but luckily Jody is watching Castiel too intently to notice. “Where did you see this?”

“That vacant lot down the street,” Castiel points, and Jody’s eyes follow his hand. “The gate was open, and Dean intervened. But there were more than just the two of them, so I got Dean out of there.” Castiel swallows, surprised at how easily the lies come. “I was just going to suggest we call you.”

Now, Jody finally looks suspicious. Going back over it in his head, Castiel knows it’s a terrible lie, but after a few brief seconds of eyeing the boys up, she drops her hands to her hips and nods. “You think they’re still there?”

Castiel turns to Dean, who shrugs. “Should be.”

Jody nods again and turns back to her car. “Don’t go anywhere tomorrow, Dean,” she calls over her shoulder. “I might need to ask you a few more questions about this.”

“I’ll be where I always am,” Dean calls back. “Home or the Roadhouse.”

“Good boy.” And Jody salutes before sliding back into her car, turning it on, and heading on down the road at a crawl, obviously not wanting to draw attention to herself.

Dean grips Castiel’s wrist and tugs on it, taking a deep breath. “Dude, that was awesome and all, I really appreciate it, but we’ve gotta split.”

Castiel frowns. “Why?”

“Soon as they notice Jody, they’re gonna scatter. And we don’t wanna be on the street when they do.”

“Oh.” Castiel swallows again. “Your place?”

“Sounds good.”

And they take off at a run, which becomes a race that Castiel easily wins, though by the time they’re barefoot and seated on Dean’s couch, watching Zoolander and throwing popcorn at each other, nobody really cares.

 

**July 2nd, 2005**

Michael is up when Castiel sneaks in just after dawn. His nice clothes are rumpled and dirty, but his oldest brother just gives him a proud, knowing smile, and turns back to his coffee, allowing Castiel an opportunity to slip into his room. He’s too tired to think about it at that moment, but later, after a few hours of dreamless sleep, he realizes what Michael must have thought, and is immediately disgusted.

The situation isn’t helped when Bela comes by again that evening around dinner time. Michael, still smiling like he just became leader of the free world, invites her to stay, but she politely refuses, instead asking to speak to Castiel for a moment. That proud look graces Michael’s face again, as Castiel follows Bela out to the porch, but Castiel ignores it, shutting the door in his brother’s face. “He’ll probably be trying to listen in,” Castiel warns her. “So maybe we should take a little walk.”

Bela nods shortly, and they stay silent until they’ve put a few yards between themselves and the Milton’s bungalow.

“I wanted to apologize for last night,” Bela says, glancing at Castiel, then clearing her throat when he gapes at her. “Don’t look at me like that, I mean it. I thought you knew what Dean was like, so I didn’t think a fight night would bother you.”

“I do know what Dean is like,” Castiel says with a frown. “Just because you drink with him sometimes doesn’t mean you know anything about him.”

Bela stops walking, turning to study Castiel. She crosses her arms over her chest, and while Castiel impatiently waits for her response, he takes the chance to appraise her as well. She’s dressed down tonight, but still lovely in white Daisy Dukes and a dark green t-shirt that sits invitingly on her curves. Castiel tilts his head, suddenly intent on the contrast between her golden skin and the white denim, and it’s only when she snaps her fingers in his face that he realizes she was speaking to him. “I’m sorry, what?”

Bela laughs softly and shakes her head. “I said, you’re gay, aren’t you?”

Castiel blinks, slightly dumbfounded. He was literally just ogling her, and that’s what she comes up with? “What?”

“You were happier to see Dean last night then you were to see me.” Bela hums in thought before ticking off on her fingers: “You almost ditched me to waste time with Dean doing God-knows-what in the woods. Then you stepped in and let him hit you as you oh-so-nobly tried to save him from himself. Then you actually did ditch me, and Dean followed you off to do whatever it is you two do.” Bela pauses, then clicks her tongue. “By the way, the sheriff showed up after you left, but we were already on our way to the boardwalk when we saw her go past, so all she found was that kid.”

Castiel frowns, a little disappointed that Alastair and Azazel were able to get away, but at least the boy was able to get some kind of help. He’s also a little disturbed that Bela doesn’t seem to care about the boy’s well-being, but he temporarily sets that aside to deal with her accusation. “I’m not gay.”

“Really?” Bela’s tone is pandering, as if she doesn’t believe him.

“I’m not allowed to have friends I’m really close to?”

“Not when you look at each other the way you and Dean look at each other. Even Ruby noticed, and she was practically blackout drunk.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “I like girls. Okay? You girls and your long hair and your nice curves and your soft lips, all of that. I like that.”

“You really know how to win a girl’s heart,” Bela drawls, putting a hand on her hip. “Whatever, I was just curious. I’ve given my apology, do you accept it?”

Castiel shrugs. “Might as well.”

They should separate here. Bela and her family are staying in one of the resort’s suites, in the opposite direction, but she follows him back to the bungalow, and when Castiel turns to tell her good-bye, she cups his face and leans in to press a kiss to his lips. It’s gummy and sugary from her lip gloss, but the intent is there, and Castiel’s face flames up in surprise and embarrassment. Bela smiles smugly when she pulls back, and taps his nose with a finger before wiggling it at him in farewell. Castiel dumbly waves back, then scrambles back inside before he can humiliate himself further.

But Gabriel’s waiting for him with a shit-eating grin, and his other brothers are gathered around the dinner table trying not to laugh. Luke and Michael, actually laughing with each other? Castiel immediately turns to take off for his room, but Gabriel grabs him and drags him back through the living room, all but shoving him into the seat next to Michael.

“Since Bela’s taken an interest in you, we thought we’d sit you down to have… a little talk.” Michael says carefully, and now he can’t keep the grin off his face. Castiel quickly shakes his head.

“Thanks, but I already had the talk.” He starts to get up, but Michael throws an arm around his shoulder and holds him down.

“You had the talk with _Mom_ ,” Gabriel scoffs, taking the seat next to Lucifer. “She didn’t tell you the good parts.”

Castiel groans and puts his head in his hands. It’s gonna be a long night.

 

 

**July 7th, 2005**

**From: Dean**

**8:08pm**

**long shot bt can u come out 2nite?**

Castiel blinks in surprise, and immediately tucks his phone in near his chest. Lucifer is seated on the other side of the couch, with Anna between them, and even though Michael graciously allowed Castiel to have his phone back, it came with the stipulation that Castiel still can’t talk to Dean. So of course, that’s practically all Castiel has done. When he laughs at his phone, when he clutches it tight, when he spends the whole evening texting, everyone just assumes he’s talking to Bela, and Castiel has reveled in their ignorance.

**From: Cas**

**8:10pm**

**m/b hold on**

Anna’s watching when Castiel looks up, so he immediately presses his phone to his chest and glares at her. She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t want to see your dirty texts to your girlfriend anyway.”

Lucifer huffs, and hides a smile behind his hand. He’s seemed happier these last few days, and has been almost accommodating to Michael. In fact, when Gabriel suggested they head into Sileas for the annual Independence Day festival, Lucifer had been the one to invite Michael to join them. Michael had just stared at him, confused, before refusing the offer to do some work by the pool. Lucifer hadn’t even been offended.

That had actually been a good day, all things considered. They’d passed Dean, Sam, Jo and Sarah outside the ice cream parlor, and when Jo waved at Castiel, he’d been allowed to join them for a few minutes, and even got to introduce them to Gabriel and Anna. Lucifer had stayed away, uninterested, but at least this time he didn’t rat Castiel out to Michael.

“She wants to know if I can go out tonight,” Castiel says. Lucifer shifts in his seat and shrugs.

“Do you want to go out tonight?”

Castiel thinks about it.

**From: Cas**

**8:13pm**

**what r we doin?**

**From: Dean**

**8:13pm**

**beach party!!!!!! its jo’s birthday!!!**

Castiel smiles as warmth starts to gather in his chest. Dean has been careful lately, respectful of Castiel’s supposed punishment; he probably wouldn’t have asked if Jo hadn’t suggested having Castiel there. And as much as Castiel adores Dean, as fond as he is of Dean’s friends, it’s nice to know that Dean’s friends like Castiel too.

“Yes,” Castiel says softly. “I want to go.”

When he looks up, Lucifer is watching him carefully, and for a terrifying moment, Castiel fears he’s been found out. But then Lucifer smirks and shakes his head.

“Young love is disgusting.” He pokes Anna’s thigh with his foot. “Isn’t that right, Anna?”

Anna makes a face and shuffles closer to Castiel. “Your feet are disgusting,” she shoots back.

Castiel laughs, and it feels good, to be in this small house without all that tension hanging over their heads. “So can I go?”

“I don’t care, do what you want,” Lucifer says, turning back to his show. Anna leans back into the couch as well, her hands behind her head, and Castiel feels thoroughly dismissed.

**From: Cas**

**8:16pm**

**on my way**

Castiel changes into his running shorts and trainers, and shoves a pair of swim trunks into a tote bag. He waves from the front door, but no one waves back. After a quick stretch, he takes off into town.

It feels good to run at this time of night. There’s a chill coming in off the ocean, but as his body warms up, he only notices that the wind feels good on his damp skin. The sun is just starting to set, casting the sky in pinks and oranges, and Sileas is laid out before him, lit up gold. As he turns off Main Street towards the boardwalk, the beach straight ahead, he catches himself smiling at white-capped waves and human silhouettes. There’s something so picturesque about this little town, something that warms him up from the inside and makes him feel invincible.

Castiel stops at the flagpole, jogging in place as he tries to figure out where his friends are located. He’s still looking when someone grabs him from behind, blocking his vision.

“Guess who!”

Castiel yells, taken by surprise, and twists around only to find Charlie laughing at him. “What’s got you all jumpy, Finster?” She says, shoving at his shoulder. Castiel frowns.

“Finster?”

“From Rugrats? Don’t tell me you’ve never seen that either.” She looks disappointed already, hands on her hips, hazel eyes wide and expectant, so Castiel clears his throat.

“Okay, I won’t tell you.”

Charlie rolls her eyes, then reaches for Castiel’s wrist, leading him down the stairs. She’s wearing a lime green one-piece, with a purple sarong wrapped around her hips. It’s a very distracting state of dress, and Castiel tightens his jaw before gently withdrawing himself from her touch and quickening his steps to walk beside her instead of behind her. “There are changing rooms here, right?” He asks, voice cracking. Charlie smiles briefly, but is kind enough not to point it out.

“Yeah, there’s a public restroom right up there.” She points up ahead, then turns to Castiel. “We’re just beyond there if you want to change and meet up with us.” She lowers her eyelashes and leans in close to him, until his cheeks turn pink. “Though I’m sure no one would object if you wanted to change at the party.”

Castiel lets out a high-pitched giggle, ducking away from her and clutching the strings of his tote like a lifeline. “I think Dean might object,” he tries to joke, but his voice cracks again, and this time Charlie laughs.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Spock.” But she relents, saluting him before taking off down the sand, and Castiel retreats to the restroom. He quickly changes into his swim trunks, then takes a few moments to collect himself. This will be the first time in weeks that he’s spent time with everyone; he doesn’t want to ruin it by being a creep.

Which is what makes it so funny when he finally finds the campfire, and both Jo and Pam stop in their tracks, mouths open, eyes firmly affixed on Castiel’s bare chest. He feels himself blushing again, and immediately reaches for his tote bag, to pull his shirt back on, but a giggling Charlie reaches over to take it from him, tossing it to Dean, who sits on it with a Cheshire-grin.

“You ladies like this so much,” Dean says, his voice colored with laughter, “you should see him all fancied up.”

“Well, now I know what it means to get the vapors,” Jo says, fanning herself. Pamela throws her hands in the air, wiggling her fingers towards the sky, gesture so reminiscent of the more over-exuberant attendees at Uncle Zach’s sermons that Castiel has to laugh.

“Have I mentioned my school has a uniform?” he offers, sidling up to Jo and putting an arm around her shoulders.

“Do you have to wear a tie?”

“Yes.”

“Woof.” Her blue eyes are alight with glee when Castiel kisses her cheek and makes her squeal. And this time, Dean seems to be enjoying the attention Castiel’s getting, which makes the whole thing more fun. Still, Castiel finds himself taking a seat next to Dean when Garth and Ash arrive and bogart Jo’s attention.

“How old is she now?” Castiel whispers, leaning into Dean’s space.

“Fourteen.”

“Shit.” Castiel shakes his head. “Too young for me.”

Dean barks out a laugh, which makes Pam turn to them with a raised eyebrow, so he leans in and keeps his voice down when he responds, “What, she’s not woman enough for you?”

“I like flowers that have already blossomed, thanks,” which just makes Dean laugh again.

“Don’t let her hear you say that,” he says, wiping his eyes. Charlie slides into the space between them, informing them that it’s rude to whisper. Dean looks like he has a good response, but before he can speak, Castiel’s phone goes off. He has a split-second heart attack, terrified that he’s been discovered, but the number is unfamiliar. His brothers would use their own phones to try and intimidate him, so Castiel raises his eyebrows at Dean’s curious expression and answers the phone.

“Hello?”

“Cas! Darling, it’s Bela.” Castiel bites his lower lip and sighs. “I got your number from your brother, I hope that’s all right.”

“Sure, it’s just peachy,” Castiel mutters. Dean shoves him and points dramatically at the phone, so Castiel mouths Bela’s name. Dean cringes and shakes his head. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, I happened to hear through the grapevine that apparently you and I are dating now, which I guess makes sense because I’ve been using your name to sneak out and meet up with Lilith and Ruby, so I’d assume you’re doing the same with Dean.”

“I happen to be out with Dean and a few other people right now,” Castiel says quickly, “so unless you’ve got--”

“Oh, what are you doing?” She sounds excited, and Castiel glances at Dean, who’s still frowning.

“Just, um… hanging out.”

“Can I join you?” There’s a rustling noise on the other end of the line, just before Bela sighs. “I mean, I adore Lilith and Ruby, but a girl’s got to have more to do on any given day than sit at the park and paint her nails. Besides, if we’re going to keep using each other as alibis, we might want to actually hang out every now and then, don’t you agree?”

“Well,” Castiel draws the word out, conflicted. Dean is glaring at him, but Charlie seems more annoyed at Dean’s annoyance. Jo is busy fawning over whatever technological device Ash has given her, and Garth and Pam are situated by Jo’s small stereo, flipping through CDs. It would be rude to invite Bela to such a personal gathering, wouldn’t it? Especially when only Dean and Castiel know her, and Dean doesn’t even really like her. “I don’t know, it’s my friend’s birthday-”

“It’s Dean’s birthday?”

Castiel scowls. “I have friends besides Dean, Bela.” Charlie snorts at that, and Dean just barely manages to keep himself from grinning.

“You wouldn’t know it from the way you talk about him,” Bela responds, and he can hear the smile in her voice as well. Castiel rolls his eyes.

“If you keep your inane theories to yourself and play nice, maybe I’ll ask the birthday girl if you can join us.”

All the joy in Dean’s face immediately falls, but Jo lifts her head up, beaming. “What about the birthday girl?”

Castiel hesitates, listening to Bela’s soft breathing on the line. “My, um…” He struggles to find the right word, “my friend Bela wants to know if she can join us?”

Dean is shaking his head, but Jo looks delighted. “Sure she can! The more the merrier, right? Besides,” she shrugs, “we girls are outnumbered tonight. One more would even it out perfectly.”

“Did you hear all that?” Castiel says into the phone, turning away from Dean’s obvious frustration.

“Yes, thank you,” Bela answers. “Should I bring some rum or gin for the birthday girl? I have some to spare.”

“That won’t be necessary,” and if Castiel’s tone is a little colder than need be, he doesn’t care. “These guys aren’t like your usual crew.”

“You mean they’re boring.”

“You’re the one who wanted to come.”

Bela sighs dramatically, the sound crackling in Castiel’s ears. “Okay, I’ll play nice. Where are you, exactly?”

Castiel describes their surroundings, mentions the fact that Jo, Ash, and Pam are building a bonfire, and hangs up after Bela promises to be there in fifteen.

“Y’know,” Charlie pipes up, as soon as Castiel has tucked his phone into his tote bag, “if you’d told us you had a girlfriend, we probably wouldn’t have been so hard on you.”

“What?” Because everything about that sentence is confusing. “Bela’s not my girlfriend.”

Charlie looks skeptical, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes. “Riiiight. And Buffy Summers is just your average teenage girl.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, ready to tell Charlie not to speak in references he doesn’t understand, but Dean reaches out and grips his shoulder, green eyes wide.

“Can I talk to Cas for a minute? Alone?”

Castiel meets Charlie’s eyes, and while she looks pensive, she shrugs and gets up, stumbling across the sand to join Pam and Garth. Dean jerks his head towards the ocean, and they both stand up, making their way towards the wet sand, leaving deep footprints in their wake.

“I’m sorry about Bela,” Cas offers as soon as they’re out of earshot. Dean glances at him, one eyebrow raised. “I’m kind of… we’re not really… but…” Castiel makes a frustrated noise and drops to sit in the sand, not caring if the waves come up to his thighs. “It’s complicated.”

Dean hesitates, then chuckles to himself. “She’s hot. I get that. She’s a bitch and you have nothing in common except your trust funds, but hey, she’s hot, so why not hit it and quit it?”

Castiel frowns, staring out at the horizon as Dean takes a seat next to him. The ocean rumbles softly, the water going in and out, swallowing their legs, then rushing back, leaving sand and debris behind. “Do you really think of me like that?” Castiel manages to say, the words sour on his tongue. “That I just want to sleep with a girl for the sake of it, and any girl will do?” He turns to look at Dean, who shrugs.

“I think anybody could be like that. And it’s not like Bela wouldn’t let you.”

“You’re not like that,” Castiel offers, ignoring the last part of Dean’s argument.

Dean raises his eyebrows, and in the last light of the setting sun, Castiel can see the way Dean’s cheeks change color, as he clears his throat and turns away. “How do you know I’m not?”

“Charlie said you’re still a virgin.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “That again? There are lots of things Charlie doesn’t know about me. You know that.”

“You would’ve told me by now if you weren’t,” Castiel points out. “Besides, it’s not like you’re lacking in options.”

“What?” Dean eyes Castiel, his brow furrowed. “What ‘options?’”

Castiel sighs. “I don’t think Charlie, Jo, or Pam would take much persuading. Especially Pam.” He means to elaborate, to point out that girls usually aren’t so close with boys, to reassure Dean that he has no interest in any of them, but Dean puts a hand over his mouth before he can. The smell of saltwater invades Castiel’s nose, and specks of sand transfer from Dean’s fingers to Castiel’s lips. Something about that thought triggers a bullet of heat from Castiel’s chest to his groin, where it sits and simmers, waiting.

Castiel deliberately decides not to focus on it.

“Jo is just a kid,” Dean is saying, and for some reason he doesn’t look angry or annoyed - he looks horrified, as if Castiel had suggested something far more vile than dating his closest friends. “She and Charlie are like sisters to me, I could never… and while you’re probably not wrong about Pam, I would never just use her like that. She deserves better.”

An alarm trips in Castiel’s head, but he can’t quite figure out why he’s suddenly so concerned. Maybe it’s the look on Dean’s face, the wide eyes and struggling words, or Dean’s tight grip on Castiel’s face. Something is wrong, and Castiel gingerly wraps his fingers around Dean’s wrist and guides his hand away from his mouth. They sit in silence for a moment, breathing in the heady air.

“Isn’t that what I said, though,” Castiel says quietly, his eyes on Dean’s. “That you’re not like that?”

Dean closes his mouth, and turns his head away. Castiel studies him for a moment more, takes in the new shadows and colors on his face, then follows his gaze. The bonfire is roaring now, and Castiel can hear music, soft and tinny. The other kids are dancing, like witches of old, black silhouettes against the flames, while Dean and Castiel sit in the wet sand, letting the waves climb higher as the moon rises in the sky.

“Is there a girl you like, Dean?” Castiel asks, and the question surprises him as much as it surprises Dean, who turns back to him with a gasp.

“No one you know,” Dean replies sharply, tightening his jaw. But Castiel just stares at him, waiting, until Dean sighs and lets the tension flow out of his shoulders. “Fine. She was in my chemistry class last year. Her name’s Lisa.”

When he doesn’t continue, Castiel twists to face him, then scoots in closer and rests his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands. “Well, go on.”

Dean blinks at him, then laughs. “You’re fucking ridiculous,” he says fondly, as he mirrors Castiel’s position. “Okay, okay. She’s just… kinda perfect, y’know? Absolutely gorgeous, and like I couldn’t tell you what color her eyes are or any of that romantic crap… but she’s got a smile that could light up a room.” And now Dean’s smiling, even as he runs a hand over his mouth, and Castiel smiles too.

“So what’s the problem?”

Dean drops his hand and sighs. “She’s a cheerleader.”

Castiel blinks. “So?”

“‘ _So_?’” Dean makes a frustrated noise, kicking at Castiel’s shins. “So, she’s way out of my league. She hangs out with this football dude Victor and his friends all the time, and they run the student council and have their own table in the cafeteria and, y’know, then there’s me.” Dean shrugs, frowning. “I draw Batman and read Tolkien and quote Star Wars and hang out with nerds. Because I’m a nerd.” He runs a hand through his hair, leaving sand behind as he turns back to the ocean. “And that’s not even mentioning the rest of what you already know.”

Alastair. And the booze and the beatings and Dean’s secretly noble heart, so secret that even Dean doesn’t seem to understand his own choices. Warmth swells in Castiel’s chest as he studies his friend, as he reaches over and puts a hand on Dean’s knee. “I thought we already decided that you’re hot.”

Dean stares at Castiel’s hand, before lifting his gaze to Castiel’s eyes. He laughs softly, smirking. “You forgot to say ‘no homo,’ dude.”

“That’s implied now.”

“No it’s not.”

“Don’t be a dick.” And Dean’s laughing louder now, shaking his head. “‘No homo’, you’re a fucking male model. The nerd stuff doesn’t matter, as long as you’re good-looking, and you know how to treat a lady. Which, considering how many female friends you have, you do.”

Dean sighs, looking away. The sun has fully set now, casting Dean’s face in gray and silver tones, and Castiel remembers that first night they met, just over a month ago. Before Castiel knew just how colorful Dean could be. When Dean had been just a boy with potential, and Castiel a stranger without direction. And it’s so strange, because whatever draws Castiel to Dean, whatever that warmth is, it feels like it’s been there forever, just waiting for the right person to unlock it.

“Ask her out,” Castiel says with a nod. “She’s not out of your league, you’re just making excuses. If she says no, that’s her problem, not yours.”

Dean chuckles softly, though he still looks hesitant. At least he’s in high enough spirits to tease: “Well, if you’re willing to come down and play in the mud with me, maybe it’s not such a stretch to think Lisa will.”

“Oh no,” Castiel says solemnly, “don’t get confused. I’m totally out of your league.”

Dean rolls his eyes. While the tide’s in, he takes an opportunity to splash water at Castiel’s face. Castiel sputters and wipes salt water from his eyes before lunging at Dean.

They end up wrestling in the sand, laughing and struggling as they roll over, as the waves cover them with cold spray. Dean laughs so hard he chokes, only to take advantage of Castiel’s concern and pin him by his wrists with a crow of victory. Castiel continues to put up a fight, but it’s half-hearted; he’s giggling too much, and ends up flailing his legs about, trying to kick Dean, but really just looking like a fool.

There comes a moment, as their laughter dies down and the tide draws out, where Dean’s gaze softens and that shot of heat that Castiel had ignored earlier starts to bloom again, his heart skipping a beat. Dean shifts slightly, and Castiel has two thoughts at once.

One, that at this distance he can see the shade of Dean’s eyes even in the dark.

And two, that Dean might kiss him again. For real, this time. And now, with Bela’s kiss to compare it too, Castiel doesn’t find the idea so appalling. In fact, it’s downright appealing.

And as the seconds draw out, Castiel starts to confuse the warmth in his chest and the heat in his belly, both now feelings he associates with Dean, and he wonders if they’re different or the same. Dean blinks slowly, and his eyelashes are long, and his freckles are numerous, and Castiel parts his lips without thinking about it.

Then, the long moment is over, and the opportunity is gone. With a high-pitched battle cry, Jo appears, and tackles Dean back to the dirt, leaving Castiel free to sit up and start shaking the sand from his hair. Dean roughly, easily, tosses Jo aside, but she’s giggling about it even as he scowls at her.

“What the hell was that for?” Dean snaps, and Jo rolls her eyes, reaching out a hand to help Dean get to his feet.

“I thought I’d come rescue Cas,” she says, brushing dirt from her shoulders. “It looked like you were about to drop a loogie on him, and I know from experience how much those suck.”

“I’d never,” Dean protests, looking genuinely offended as Castiel hops to his feet and joins them.

“Liar,” Castiel accuses, smirking when Dean glares at him. “You’re a big brother. You’ve got the whole bully arsenal, and you’re going to use it whenever you get the chance.”

“Not with you,” and Dean sounds sincere enough that Castiel has to take a deep breath. Whatever that moment was, it was just a moment. Nothing happened, and nothing will happen. It was an accident built on confused hormones, and Castiel forces himself to smile when Jo slaps Dean’s shoulder.

“What makes Cas so special?” she demands. Dean glances at Castiel, then plasters a smile on his face.

“Cas has three big brothers already, so I figure he’s got enough shit to worry about. You, however,” and Dean pulls Jo in, tucking her under his arm and rubbing his knuckles against her head as she yells. “You’ve only got me.”

Castiel chuckles as he reaches over to free Jo, who wraps her arms around him and sticks her tongue out at Dean. “Bela just got here,” she says, squeezing Castiel’s ribcage. “But she said I could dance with you if I wanted, since it’s my birthday.”

Dean rolls his eyes, turning to head back towards the bonfire, where there is indeed an extra silhouette, apparently chatting with someone. Castiel briefly worries that Bela could be spilling all of Dean’s secrets, but a part of him doubts she would be so catty. She had sought Castiel out to apologize, after all, and her own secrets are wrapped up with Dean’s. Maybe she’s not all that unlike Dean, putting up a facade in front of certain people, just to make it through the day.

So Castiel squeezes Jo back and says, “Well, if Bela says it’s okay, I guess I can make it through one dance.”

\-----

They dance like heathens to cheesy eighties pop. Dean groans at the start of every track, but always scoops up whoever happens to be nearest and starts enthusiastically moving to the beat. Sometimes his partner is Jo and sometimes it’s Pam. Once it’s Garth, and at least three times he manages to get Castiel to move with him, though Castiel prefers to sit with Charlie, discussing their theories for the new Harry Potter book coming out in a few days. Eventually, Bela joins the conversation, and even manages to keep up, much to Castiel’s surprise. In fact, both girls get involved in a heated debate about houses and sorting, which Castiel, an avowed Ravenclaw, wisely decides to stay out of.

Bela pauses in her defense of Slytherin house and smirks when Dean tugs on Castiel’s arm, dragging him across the sand to force him to dance one more time. Castiel flips her off, even as he’s trying to keep up with Dean. He’s pretty sure she returned the gesture, but he can’t be certain, because Dean is twirling him around, and there’s heat and smoke and laughter, and who cares about Bela as long as she’s behaving herself?

Jody stops by around 3 A.M., and has to break up the party. Apparently they’ve been a little too loud for the sleepy patrons at Best Western. Still, she helps them put out the fire and even has a bag of Sour Patch Kids, just for Jo.

Bela taps Castiel on the shoulder as he’s rooting through his bag to find his t-shirt. “How did you get here?” she asks.

“Ran,” Castiel answers, tugging his shirt on. “Why?”

“Want a ride?” she offers. “I just called my driver. It’ll look good for both of us.”

Castiel blinks at her, then turns. He catches Dean’s eyes, from where Dean is helping Pam and Garth dismantle the stereo, to carry to Jody’s car. Castiel gestures at Bela, then waves good-bye. Dean raises his eyebrows, then frowns, and doesn’t wave back before lifting a speaker and stumbling towards the boardwalk.

“Ouch,” Bela says with a smirk. “Poor neglected boyfriend.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Please, no commentary from the peanut gallery. Let’s just go.”

When they’re seated in the car, Castiel pulls out his phone and sends a text to Dean.

**From: Cas**

**3:26am**

**wanna hang out 2mrw?**

Bela is smirking again when Castiel looks up. “You’re gay,” she says in a singsong, and Castiel shoves her gently, making her giggle.

“You’re gay,” he shoots back. Bela bristles.

“Am not!”

Their phones beep at the same time. Castiel squints at Bela before flipping his phone open.

**From: Dean**

**3:27am**

**if u can get away**

**From: Dean**

**3:27am**

**& no bela**

Castiel smiles to himself, shaking his head.

**From: Cas**

**3:28am**

**ok c ya ltr**

When he looks up, Bela is actually smiling as she taps the buttons on her own phone. Curious, Castiel leans over, and manages to catch the name before she pulls away and frowns at him.

“You got Charlie’s number?” Castiel asks incredulously. Then, he grins. “You’re super gay.”

“Not as gay as you,” Bela mumbles, turning her attention back to her phone. And yet, a few seconds later, she shifts and rests her head on Castiel’s shoulder. It’s a much less calculated move than some of her other attempts to touch him. It’s downright familiar, as she relaxes against his side with a little sigh, still focused on the tiny screen in front of her.

And again, Castiel wonders if maybe Bela isn’t who he thought she was.

 

 

**July 15th, 2005**

When Castiel arrives back at the bungalow, it’s already getting dark. He’d run all the way from the park by the elementary school, knowing there was no way he would make it home before Michael, but hoping that the sweat and shortness of breath would help with his alibi.

His plan is to tell Michael that he’d spent the day with Bela, then gone out for a run before dinner. The truth is, he spent his time laying on the grass with Dean, Charlie and Jo, watching Sam teach Sarah how to kick a ball around. She’d picked it up surprisingly fast, and by mid-afternoon, the group of them were playing HORSE, girls versus boys. It had been fun, relaxing, even if Dean was overly competitive and liked to attempt to sabotage Jo and Charlie during their turns.

Castiel smiles and hums a little as he opens the door and starts to pull off his trainers. He’d run into town this morning too, so he’s even dressed properly. Late as he is, the most he’ll probably hear is a reprimand.

Still humming, he glances up and grins at Anna, stationed on the couch. “Who are you watching now?” he asks, laughing when she jumps and turns to him, her red hair fanning out in a halo around her head.

“Castiel,” she begins, her eyes wide, and Castiel’s grin starts to fade.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, surprised by the lack of emotion on her face. “Is everything alright?”

She glances behind her, back towards the dining room. Castiel follows her gaze, and is surprised when he realizes the lights are off. No one has prepared dinner yet. Anna turns back to him, her lower lip between her teeth.

“Lucifer’s gone. They can’t find him.”

Castiel’s breath catches in his throat. “What?”

Anna shrugs, attempting to seem casual, but the way her fingers are trembling speaks far more clearly of her current state of mind. “You know how Lucifer likes to sleep in? Well, Gabe went to go wake him up this morning, and his room was empty. His clothes and suitcases and everything was gone.” She swallows, eyes darting back to the floor, the television, the door behind Castiel. “Michael came home early to try and find him. Gabe covered for you!” she adds quickly, at the look on Castiel’s face. “But they still haven’t found Luke.” Her eyes drop to her hands, and she sighs softly. “I’m supposed to tell you to order a pizza and wait here until they get back.”

Castiel takes a moment to compose himself, worry for his brother warring with the need to take care of his sister. There’s a hundred things running through his head, at a thousand miles a minute, but he closes his eyes and takes a breath, setting them all aside. He gently ruffles Anna’s apple-colored hair as he pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials the number for the pizza place back in town.

When Mary’s the one who answers the phone, Castiel instantly feels a surge of warmth and comfort. She sounds genuinely overjoyed to hear from him, apologizing that she hasn’t been around the house, and gives him a discount on his order even as he protests that he can afford it. He takes a seat next to Anna as he hangs up the phone, smiling to himself, and only stops when he notices Anna staring at him. “What?”

“How much pizza do you have when you’re gone all day?” she asks, studying him with suspicious blue eyes. “That sounded like a phone call to a close personal friend.”

Castiel hesitates, then decides that even if Anna isn’t necessarily trustworthy, she won’t purposely sell him out to Michael. “She’s my friend Dean’s mother.”

“That boy you introduced me to on the Fourth of July?” Anna sounds genuinely confused, almost spitting the words as she tries to suss out what Castiel is telling her. “His mother works at a pizza parlor? How did you even meet someone whose mother works at a pizza parlor?”

Castiel shrugs and leans back into the couch. He still reeks of sweat, but figures it’d be better to save the shower until after the pizza is delivered, if only to torment Anna. “We met, we liked each other, we had things in common, we became friends,” he answers flatly. Anna scowls and shoves his shoulder in a burst of irritation, but settles down almost instantly, relaxing back into the couch with her arms crossed over her chest.

“You stink,” she says, wrinkling her nose.

Castiel chuckles under his breath. “You’d like Dean,” he offers as a truce, just before pulling her into a sweaty hug that leaves her screeching. As long as she laughs in the end, he can pretend everything will be okay.

\-----

They’re halfway through the first pizza and watching Will & Grace reruns when Gabe clambers through the door. Anna freezes, almost dropping her pizza slice back onto the plate. Castiel just watches as Gabe carefully pulls off his shoes. His socks. His jacket. Once the silence becomes ringing and unbearable, Castiel asks, “Where’s Michael?”

Gabe’s mouth tightens. “Still in the car.” He looks up, and the concern on his siblings’ faces must be clear, because he attempts to smile. “You save anything for us?”

Castiel’s head is spinning, trying to figure out what this all means. “Gabriel,” he says sharply, “what about Lucifer?”

Gabe’s tiny smile falls. He takes a deep breath, heading over and setting a pizza box aside so he can sit on the coffee table, facing his siblings. “Mom pulled some strings and we got a hit on his phone, but it was stagnant. When we looked up the location, and it was a gas station between here and Portland, so he probably dumped it.” Gabe runs a hand over his eyes, and Anna shifts until her side is pressed up against Castiel’s. He takes pity on his sister and wraps an arm around her shoulders, keeping her close. “He hasn’t touched any of his credit cards, and somehow he managed to drain his savings account, so…” Gabe drops his hand and shrugs. “We’ve called the cops, Mom’s coming in tonight, and that’s about all we can do.”

Anna is shaking, sniffling, and Castiel takes a shuddering breath. “So. He didn’t even leave a note?”

“Nope. Nothing. Mike thinks there might be something to all the times Luke threatened to go to San Francisco, but we don’t know for sure.” Gabe closes his eyes, then takes Anna’s hands in his own. “Annie, please don’t cry. We’re gonna be fine.”

Seeing the tears on his sister’s face breaks something in Castiel. A wall crumbles down, and suddenly he’s overwhelmed with anger and fear for his brother. Sure, Lucifer could be an arrogant bag of dicks, but he did help Castiel settle in to high school. And when they were younger, before their parents were gone all the time, Lucifer had been gentle and playful. Playing tag in the grass with his little brother, teaching little Anna how to sing, how much of Lucifer had imprinted on them, to turn them into the people they are today?

Now he’s just disappeared. Without a word or warning. He might as well be dead, for all they know.

And the tears start to fall. Castiel fights them, puts a hand over his face to hide them, but then Anna starts to cry outright, and Gabe pulls them both in, holding them as they cling to him.

It’s only when Castiel pulls himself away, leaving Anna to bogart Gabe’s comfort, that he notices Michael, standing next to the couch, watching his siblings with red-rimmed eyes. Emotions war in Castiel’s chest: it’s Michael’s fault, entirely Michael’s fault that Lucifer left, but maybe Michael knows that already. Maybe he’s already beating himself up over it. Maybe it’s not Castiel’s place to do so.

But there’s still so much anger. At Lucifer, for abandoning them, and now at Michael, for driving him to do so. And the more Castiel thinks about it, the angrier he becomes. Because maybe if Mother and Father had been around more, Michael wouldn’t have had to become their de facto father, and would’ve have driven him to argue with Lucifer like he did. Maybe if Gabriel didn’t harass Lucifer with his pranks. Maybe if Anna didn’t play her music so loud.

Maybe if Castiel hadn’t been so distracted by his new friends, he would’ve seen the signs and tried to talk Lucifer out of leaving. He had always feared that someday, their family would break, and now that day has come, and Castiel doesn’t know where to place the blame.

Castiel has retreated so far inside his mind that he only notices Michael has moved when a pair of strong arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him into an embrace that he’s not even sure he wants to return. But Michael is whispering, “I’m sorry,” so softly that Castiel’s not even sure if he’s supposed to hear it. And Castiel is suddenly reminded that Michael is less than six years older than he is. Hardly old enough to handle this on his own.

Maybe they’re all just trying to figure out who to blame. Maybe Michael can’t think of anyone but himself.

It feels like a long time before they start to compose themselves. Before Gabe picks a sleeping Anna up and carries her to her room, while Michael collects the pizza to reheat in the microwave, because he and Gabe haven’t eaten all day. Castiel sits for a moment longer, then heads to his own tiny room, locking the door behind him and pulling his phone out of his pocket.

**From: Cas**

**10:32pm**

**my brother ran away**

It’s only a few seconds before he gets a response.

**From: Dean**

**10:32pm**

**???!! which 1?? r u ok?**

And before Castiel can even start typing out a response, his phone is buzzing in his hand, the little screen flashing white before bringing up Dean’s name. Castiel raises his eyebrows, surprised, as he answers.

“Dean?”

“Okay, tell me what the hell ‘ran away’ means. He literally _ran away_?”

“Yes. Lucifer, he was with us on Independence Day. He took off this morning and we don’t know where he is.”

“Shit,” Dean whispers. “I’m sorry. Are you doin’ okay?”

Castiel hesitates, his voice catching in his throat. And suddenly, words are slipping out, and tears, all out of his own control. He rants and he sobs and he curses and Dean just listens. And when the words stop and Castiel’s throat and eyes are dry and painful, he worries that this was too much, that Dean hung up on him, because what an embarrassment he is, dropping all of this on his friend’s shoulders. “Dean?” He says hoarsely. “Are you still there?”

“Always,” Dean says softly. “Feel better?”

And surprisingly, Castiel does.

 

 

**July 17th, 2005**

It’s been quiet around the bungalow for the last couple of days. Michael has moved into Gabriel’s room, to give their mother a place to sleep, but Castiel’s pretty sure she hasn’t been doing much sleeping. She and Michael still spend most of the day on the phone or a laptop, working, but they’re both dressed down, and sometimes Naomi takes her phone calls outside, and no one sees her for an hour or two.

Castiel doesn’t believe these are actually phone calls.

Bela and her parents stopped by yesterday with a fruit basket and condolences, and Bela stays for an hour or so, having brought her brand new copy of _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_. Castiel had completely forgotten. He probably had his own copy waiting at the front desk, but he couldn’t bring himself to go pick it up. Bela quickly got frustrated, not wanting to spoil the story for him, and ended up calling Charlie on her way out the door.

Naomi had picked up the mail after dinner today, and dropped Castiel’s copy of the book on his bed. She’d lingered there for a moment, but when Castiel finally met her eyes, she had only sighed and made him promise to give the book to Anna as soon as he was done.

No one has spoken Lucifer’s name in two days. The only thing that makes Castiel even try to start reading is the desperate need to escape this suffocating silence.

It’s late, now. His family must be in bed, but Castiel is still reading, drowning himself in magic and owls and characters that will never leave him, that will always be there, on these pages. His phone buzzes next to him, drawing him out, and he blinks, confused, before picking it up.

**From: Dean**

**11:47pm**

**ur in house 5 rite??**

Castiel frowns down at his phone, reading the words a few times before he realizes that Dean is asking about the bungalow.

**From: Cas**

**11:48pm**

**yes, y??**

**From: Dean**

**11:48**

**u have ur own room?**

What the hell is this all about? Castiel contemplates just calling Dean to save time, but decides against it.

**From: Cas**

**11:49pm**

**yes, y?????**

**From: Dean**

**11:49pm**

**is ur lite on?**

And Castiel gets it. He’s not entirely sure why Dean would do this, but he still slips out of bed and peeks through the curtain. Dean is right outside, a tote bag over his shoulder, and he has the audacity to grin and wave when he notices Castiel. Caught, Castiel rolls his eyes and pulls the curtains back, opening the window.

“What the hell are you doing?” he whispers, frowning.

Dean pouts. “You’re not going to let me in?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. And you’re lucky security didn’t see you!”

“Dude.” Now it’s Dean’s turn to roll his eyes. “Just let me in. I have _Half-Blood Prince_ , I thought we could read it together.”

“Why?”

“Cas!” All the humor, sarcastic or not, is gone from Dean’s eyes. He’s almost pleading when he says, “I just wanted to see you. I was worried.”

Again, Castiel wants to ask him why, and even leans towards telling him to leave. He doesn’t need Dean’s worry, or his pity. He just wants to escape into his book for a little while longer. But it’s as he’s reaching up to close the window that he realizes, that’s exactly what Dean had offered. He just didn’t want Castiel to do it alone.

“What chapter are you on?” Castiel asks, squinting at Dean in the dark.

Dean shrugs. “I finished it this morning, so wherever you’re at is fine.”

Castiel raises his eyebrows, surprised. “Oh. Well.” Then this little adventure is truly all about Castiel. About Dean wanting to check on his friend and keep him company during a dark time in his life. And Castiel is truly touched. “Meet me at the front door.”

Quietly, carefully, he sneaks Dean through the dark house and into his room. Once the door is locked, Castiel hesitates. In the silence, pink blossoms on Dean’s cheeks, and he stares at the floor, shuffling his feet. Castiel catches himself wondering about kissing Dean again, and he quickly squashes it down. That one time had been an accident, and neither he nor Dean is even gay, so why bother thinking about it? When they wrestled on the beach, that had been the result of confused hormones, of body heat and moonlight. That’s all. Now, they’re not even touching, and yes, Dean’s blush brings out his freckles even in the dim light, but that’s no reason to want to kiss him.

Castiel takes a breath. “Sorry my room’s so small,” he says quietly. Dean huffs, smiling.

“Only so much room in these places, I guess.”

They stand awkwardly for another moment before Dean makes himself at home, crawling onto Castiel’s bed and digging in his tote bag. He reverently lays out his copy of _Half-Blood Prince_ , then pulls out his sketchbook and a few pencils. This is what draws Castiel over, watching curiously as Dean flips through his sketchbook to find a blank page. “You’re going to draw?”

“Yeah.” Dean grins at him. “You can keep reading if you want.”

Dean sprawls out on his stomach as Castiel blinks, confused. “I thought we were going to read together.”

“Read out loud,” Dean offers, dragging his pencil over paper. “You’ve got a good voice.”

Heat crawls up Castiel’s face, but he opens the book, hiding behind it. He can still hear the little sounds of Dean’s pencil moving across the paper, creating some new vision, bringing to life whatever it is that lives in Dean’s head. Castiel takes a breath, peering over the top of his book, but Dean is focused on his drawing, and doesn’t seem to realize how flustered Castiel is.

Good.

Castiel clears his throat, searching for where he’d left off.

“‘ _Harry did not answer. The thought of that little golden bottle had hovered on the edges of his imagination for some time; vague and unformulated plans that involved Ginny breaking up with Dean-_ ’” Dean laughs slightly, and grins when Castiel frowns at him.

“Sorry I share a name with a fictional character, how would you feel if it was you?” Castiel furrows his brow, and Dean laughs again. “Never mind. Guess that’s not something you have to worry about.”

Castiel hesitates before closing the book, settling it in his lap as he leans closer to Dean. “My father writes novels for a living, Dean.”

Dean meets his gaze, confused but unyielding. “I know. He never named anybody after you, though.”

“No.” Castiel shrugs. “But Kyriel is based on me.”

Dean studies Castiel’s face, then concentrates on the wall behind Castiel’s head, obviously attempting to gather his thoughts. His eyes flicker, and Castiel can almost see the pages turning in Dean’s head, as he goes back through the story and tries to figure out what Castiel means. He does see when the light goes on, and Dean’s eyes dart back to his own.

“Oh,” Dean says, “that makes so much sense.”

Castiel tilts his head. “You think so?”

“You don’t?” Dean laughs, propping himself up on his elbows. “Don’t make that face,” he adds when Castiel squints. “I mean… Ky is exactly like you - on the surface. He’s awkward and serious and doesn’t know shit about what’s good.” Dean winks, and heat floods Castiel’s cheeks. “Ky’s missing some of the best parts of you, but that’s okay. He’s an angel. Totally different species.”

Castiel isn’t even sure where to begin with that. He had recognized the differences between himself and Kyriel, but it was surprising to learn that Dean could see them so clearly too. Though, what does he mean, ‘best parts?’ Castiel is dying to know what Dean thinks his ‘best parts’ are, but it seems rude to ask. He realizes that he’s clutched _Half-Blood Prince_ to his chest, and loosens his grip, embarrassed. Dean doesn’t seem to have noticed; he’s turned back to his sketchbook, dark lines creating circles and squares, the outline of another masterpiece.

They stay silent for a few more moments, Castiel’s mind racing. Once he’s managed to get over the idea that there are parts of him that are best, he starts to wonder about Dean’s thoughtfulness, coming here to keep him company and cheer him up. It’s not just his head that’s whirling either - his chest and stomach feel like they’re on a rollercoaster, swooping up and down around hairpin turns, but instead of feeling nauseous, Castiel just feels… almost giddy.

It’s then he realizes he’s smiling. For the first time since Gabe and Michael came home empty-handed, Castiel is smiling. It’s just a soft upturn of lips, but then Dean glances up and responds with a toothy grin of his own, and Castiel’s smile widens.

“Thank you,” Castiel says quietly. Dean shrugs awkwardly, quickly turning back to his drawing.

“Don’t mention it,” he mumbles. “Keep reading.”

Castiel pauses long enough to take a deep breath, then shifts until he’s leaning against the wall, legs spread out across the bed, as close to Dean as he feels he can be without ruining Dean’s concentration. Then he opens the book and, in a soft voice, continues to read.

\-----

They wake up with Dean’s head pillowed in Castiel’s lap, but neither has the time to think about it, because Michael and Naomi are awake and wandering around the house. They quickly gather Dean’s things, and Castiel goes to help him clamber out his bedroom window. Dean steals a tight hug, and smiles at Castiel once more before he drops to the grass and takes off across the lawn.

Thirty seconds later, Michael and Naomi leave the bungalow for work.

Castiel spends the rest of the day in a stupor, stunned by their good luck.

 

**July 18th, 2005**

Castiel wanders around the resort most of the afternoon. On a whim, he steals a wooden crate from behind the kitchens, and carefully places it in the hollow space under the bungalow’s front porch.

Later, after sunset, when Dean taps on his window, Castiel points him towards the crate. Now, Dean can climb in and out of Castiel’s tiny window, making it less risky for him to visit.

They spend that evening excitedly discussing _Half-Blood Prince_ , which Castiel had finished earlier that day, which fades into yet another argument about houses and sorting. Eventually, they fall asleep curled towards each other on the bed, with Dean’s sketch of a Ravenclaw Keeper on the bed between them.

 

**July 19th, 2005**

Long after Dean had hugged him goodbye and shuffled out the window, Castiel finds the drawing still on his bed. His first thought is to set it aside, return it to Dean later, but when he flips the paper over, there’s something scrawled on the back:

“ _For Cas_

_see you on the quidditch pitch_ ”

Warmth reappears in Castiel’s chest, and he smiles.

But when he starts to think about it, to think about why a simple drawing from a sweet boy makes him feel this way, he’s too terrified to stay on that train of thought. Instead, he abruptly switches gears and thinks of Lucifer. It’s depressing and makes him angry, but at least he knows what those emotions are, and how to handle them.

Still. When Dean knocks on his window that night, tells him, “I’m Dean Winchester and I’m here to rescue you,” before displaying DVDs of the original Star Wars trilogy, Castiel still smiles and lets him in.

He keeps smiling as Dean takes over his room, setting up a tiny portable DVD player to watch the movies on.

He smiles as they roughhouse, elbowing and shoving one another in an attempt to better share the screen.

And when Dean offers a new idea, one where he crawls behind Castiel and pulls him into his lap, resting his chin on Castiel’s shoulder, Castiel’s smile turns soft. Because Dean is warm and Castiel has never felt safe or cared for like this. It’s terrifying. But Castiel wouldn’t give it up for the world.

 

**July 20th, 2005**

Castiel wakes up slowly, registering everything piece by piece. The pale sunlight peeking through his curtains. The DVD player digging into his ribs. A comforting arm around his waist. Warm breath on the back of his neck-

Castiel sits up straight, accidentally knocking his elbow into Dean’s chest. Dean jerks awake with a pained shout, and as a result of their awkward flailing, attempting to untangle themselves, Castiel gets knocked off the bed, landing on the floor with a dull _thump_.

They stare at each other for a long moment. Then, giggles start to bubble helplessly out of Dean’s mouth. And once Dean gets going, Castiel can’t stop himself from joining in. It’s half amusement at their idiocy, and half relief that they’re not going to dwell on how close they were when they woke up. Castiel just isn’t ready to face that, and it’s a little comforting to know that Dean is willing to ignore it too.

They both freeze when someone knocks on Castiel’s door. It takes a second before Castiel remembers he should probably acknowledge whoever’s on the other side. “Who is it?”

“Castiel.” And his blood runs cold, because that is his mother’s voice, and she doesn’t sound happy. “We need to speak with you. Open the door.”

“Just a minute!” He calls, and springs into action, grabbing the DVDs and shoving them into Dean’s totebag. Dean is up as well, pulling his shoes back on, his fingers fumbling the laces in his hurry.

“No, open it now.” The more he stalls, the worse it’ll be, but nothing will be as bad as her opening the door to find Dean still in his room. “Castiel!”

“Mother, I’m not dressed!” He says back, “Just hold on!” Dean is by the window, gesturing for Castiel to throw him his things, but just as Castiel lifts the totebag, his ears hone in on the sound of a key in a lock. He turns mid-throw, leaving Dean to scramble back inside and catch the bag before it falls and breaks his things, as Castiel rushes to the door, to open it just enough to see his Mother and Michael glaring at him.

“I said I’m not dressed.”

Michael rolls his eyes and gives the door a final hard push, which sends Castiel back to the floor as the door swings open, revealing Dean by the window, wide-eyed and pale.

Naomi’s lips tighten as Michael takes a deep breath. “Mr. Winchester,” Michael says slowly. “What a surprise.”

“A pleasant one, I’m sure,” Dean offers, quickly plastering a grin on his face. He slowly eases himself back into Castiel’s room, radiating charm. As if he thinks he can just smooth this whole thing over with a wink and a smile and a handsome face. “You should be nicer to your little brother, though,” Dean continues, dropping his tote and going to help Castiel stand up. “He might be bigger than you someday, and then you’ll be sorry.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Michael says. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Once Castiel is balanced on his feet again, Dean holds up his hands and takes a few steps forward. “What happened to manners? Somebody introduce me to this lovely lady right here.”

A giggle escapes from Castiel’s mouth, and he bites his lower lip to keep the rest from sneaking out. “That’s my mother,” he says, voice shaking with suppressed laughter. “Naomi Milton.”

“Mrs. Milton, I’m Dean Winchester.” Dean offers a hand and another brilliant smile. Unfazed, Naomi narrows her eyes and crosses her arms. Eventually, Dean withdraws his hand and takes a few steps back, standing next to Castiel. “Tough crowd,” he mutters. Castiel smirks.

“Do you realize you’re trespassing, Dean?” Naomi says finally. Michael imitates his mother’s stance and nods quickly.

“Cas invited me in, so I don’t believe I am,” Dean responds with a shrug.

“The entire resort is private property, and Castiel is still a minor, so his invitations are invalid.”

Castiel scowls. “So you get to completely dictate who I can and can’t spend time with.”

Naomi raises an eyebrow. “I might as well, considering you can’t seem to discern who is good company and who isn’t.”

Castiel opens his mouth to respond, but Dean puts a hand on his arm, and grins at Naomi. “There’s a few people out there who can vouch that I’m very good company,” he says with a wink. Both of Naomi’s eyebrows climb towards her hairline, before furrowing in annoyance.

“You think you’re cute.” She frowns.

Dean shrugs. “I think I’m adorable.”

Naomi takes a deep breath before turning to Castiel. “ _This_ is how you’re choosing to spend your time, Castiel? Who you’re spending it with? Look at him!” She gestures at Dean’s clothes, his faded band shirt and jeans with a hole at the knee, his tattered sneakers. Dean shoves his hands in his pockets and keeps his eyes on the ground. “What does he know about society, about business? About success? Castiel,” and she’s smiling that condescending little smile that Lucifer used, once upon a time, as she reaches out to touch Castiel’s shoulder, “you are so much better than this.”

Anger, boiling and electric, rips through Castiel, and he pulls away from his mother. “How would you know?” He demands, and Naomi draws back, surprise in her eyes. Dean is watching him too, almost curious. “So he’s got holes in his jeans, so what? So his mother works three jobs to support him and his brother, how is she any different from you?” Naomi’s jaw tightens, but Castiel plows forward before she can cut him off. “You’re never here! The only reason you ever come around for longer than a few hours is if something’s wrong! At least Mary is there and easy to find when Dean and Sam need her.”

Naomi takes a step back, dropping her arms. She glances at Michael, before turning back to Castiel, eyes darting uncertainly around the room. “Castiel-”

“No.” And Castiel approaches her again, though he feels Dean’s fingers brush his arm again. “No, you don’t get to try and justify this. You and Dad being away all the time is why Lucifer left, haven’t you figured that out yet?” He brandishes a finger at Michael, who shrinks in on himself as if he knows what’s coming. “Luke and Michael fought all the time. Terrible, _awful_ , screaming fights. Luke never wanted what you wanted for him, and trying to force him into it drove him away.” Castiel swallows, tries to keep the next threat in, but he’s so angry with his mother, with his father, with Michael, that he can’t stop himself: “Are you going to drive me away too?”

Michael whispers his name, admonishing, but Castiel is focused on his mother’s face. He’s never seen her eyes so bright before, never seen the tremor in her chin. Maybe he crossed the line this time.

Still, Naomi manages to hold onto herself, if only for a moment. “Dean, you need to leave. Please. Take the crate with you, and don’t come back. Michael, take Castiel to Portland with you today, and maybe he’ll get an idea of why I have to be away so much. And you, Castiel?” Her eyes briefly meet his own before glancing away; guilt rests itself solidly on Castiel’s shoulders. “I think I’m going to call your father. Maybe you’ll listen to him.”

Naomi turns on her heel and walks away. All three boys wince when they hear a door slam down the hall. Michael stares at Castiel for a moment, looking unsettled, before he clears his throat. “Okay. Get ready, we have to leave in a half hour.” Then he disappears as well.

Castiel stands still, staring at the empty doorway, until he feels warmth along his right side. When he looks over, Dean is standing closer than necessary, giving him a tiny smile. Castiel sighs. “Sorry you had to see that.”

“Nah,” Dean scoffs. “That first part was pretty cool, you sticking up for me and my mom.”

“Too bad I hurt my own mom in the process,” Castiel says softly. Dean makes a face, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

“You’re not wrong though,” Dean mumbles.

“Thanks, but that’s not the point.” Castiel sighs again. “Come on, guess you can leave out the front door today.”

Dean grabs his totebag and they trudge to the front door. Michael is eating breakfast in the kitchen. He glances up when they appear, watching them closely.

“Well,” Dean says, trying to smile. “Enjoy Portland.”

“Yeah right.” Castiel rolls his eyes. “They have an office there they use to keep up with all this business and accounting shit I don’t understand. I’ll just be shadowing Michael all day.”

Dean’s smile turns sympathetic. “Well, if you have a minute to spare before your dad gets here, send me a text.”

Castiel smiles back, even as Michael yells, “He won’t!” from the kitchen. Dean leans in for a hug, and Castiel accepts, squeezing him tight. Their eyes meet as Dean pulls back, and Castiel is hit with the sudden fear that he won’t see Dean again this summer.

“Wait,” he blurts out. “Do you have a MySpace?”

Dean blinks. Then he grins.

 

**July 24th, 2005**

In all honesty, Castiel is a little surprised to hear that his father is willing to appear in Sileas because of Castiel’s alleged deviancy. Lucifer’s disappearance wasn’t enough to tear him away from his writing desk, but Castiel’s insistence on hanging out with a poor boy is. Castiel is beginning to wonder if he’s the only one in his family with any real priorities.

On the bright side, at least it means he doesn’t have to go to Portland with Michael anymore.

He’s sitting on the porch, watching storm clouds roll in and letting the wind ruin his hair. His parents went to some sort of special, romantic dinner at the resort’s restaurant, leaving Castiel alone with Gabriel and Anna. It’s kind of strange, Castiel thinks, that his family got back to their routines so quickly. Yes, he knows, there’s not much else they can do to find Lucifer, especially since he’s no longer a minor, but to think that Anna still absorbs MTV like it holds the secrets to life, or that Gabriel is still going around trying to make everyone laugh, or that Michael and their mother still go to work every day… It’s like nothing’s changed. There’s just less yelling.

Castiel can’t help thinking at least that’s a plus, and it makes him feel horrible. God only knows what his brother’s doing, if he’s even alive, and here’s Castiel feeling grateful that he doesn’t have to deal with those fights anymore.

Chuck and Naomi come around the corner just then, in a suit and gown, having just finished an early dinner at the resort’s restaurant. They both smile at Castiel. Naomi’s is still a little strained, even though Castiel apologized for his harsh words, but at least she can smile at him now. Hell, at least she can smile.

Chuck ruffles Castiel’s hair as they pass. “Let me change, and then I’m all yours.”

“Okay,” Castiel mumbles, turning back to the horizon. His father doesn’t seem as angry as his mother was, which bodes well. Naomi is the family matriarch, so whatever she says goes. But Chuck has been able to sway her once or twice.

She always says Chuck makes her laugh. He says he admires Naomi’s spirit.

Castiel smiles to himself. However much time they spend apart, at least he’s never felt a reason to worry about his parents’ marriage.

Chuck appears a few minutes later, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, and Castiel stands to follow his father out to the parking lot. Chuck blinks at him, then shakes his head.

“You’re not allowed to get any taller.”

Castiel shrugs. “Mother says I’ll end up at least as tall as Michael.”

“Nope. Not allowed. You can’t be taller than your dad, that’s the rule.”

“Because you have the power to stop puberty.” Castiel rolls his eyes as Chuck laughs. The wind catches the sound, dragging it away, and Castiel manages a small smile of his own. The family is so rarely together that he forgets how nice it is to be around his father. A little voice whispers in his head, the family will never be together again, but he quickly closes his eyes and lets the wind take that away too. He’d rather not dwell on it now.

“I thought ice cream would be good for us,” Chuck says as they climb into the car. Castiel turns and studies him carefully, squinting.

“Ice cream?”

“Yes.” Chuck turns the car on and backs out of the space, not returning Castiel’s stare.

“Are we going to the ice cream parlor in Sileas?” Castiel asks when they turn south on the highway.

“Are you pronouncing that right?” Chuck responds.

Castiel ignores the question, figuring it’s an attempt to distract him. “Does Mother know?”

Chuck shrugs, eyes on the road as he tries to figure out the lay of the land. “You don’t know where this place is, do you?”

Castiel rolls his eyes, leaning back in his seat. “Just stay on the 101, it functions as Main Street. You’ll stumble on it.”

And eventually, they do. Chuck hums to himself as he pulls into the parking lot. Their clean, fancy car stands out among the pick-up trucks and minivans, and Castiel hunches in on himself, embarrassed. It’s nice, getting to spend time with his dad, but it feels weird coming here without his friends. Chuck puts a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, guiding him inside, and he leaves it there as they place their order, pick it up, until they find a little table to sit at outside. The wind has died down some, but the dark clouds on the horizon are still coming in, so Castiel thinks they might have to eat quickly to avoid the storm.

“So,” Chuck says after a long silence, “tell me about Dean.”

Castiel tightens his jaw, resolutely staring out at the ocean. Cars zoom past and gulls cry overhead, breaking the quiet. “He’s my friend,” he says finally, putting another bite of ice cream in his mouth. Chuck turns to him, but Castiel refuses to look back. Instead, he stares into his half-empty bowl, taking deep breaths.

“A friend,” Chuck repeats. “A friend who asks you to sneak out of the house late at night. To lie to your mother and siblings. Who sneaks into your home and inspires you to hurt your-” He cuts himself off when Castiel slams his bowl on the table.

“That was me,” Castiel says fiercely, his voice soft. “All of that, it was me, not Dean. I take full responsibility for everything I’ve done.” He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “Well, he did sneak into the bungalow, but he was trying to make me feel better.”

“Feel better?”

“Because of Lucifer.” Castiel glances at his father, just long enough to see his expression turn somber. And maybe that should be what they’re talking about, his runaway brother, but before Castiel can think of anything else to say, Chuck is sighing and shifting in his seat.

“I can’t say I approve of what this friendship has done to you,” Chuck says carefully. Castiel frowns, but directs it at his lap. No one wants to listen to his arguments, so why continue making them? “But at the same time,” Chuck continues, “I’m not sure I understand why your mother and Michael dislike the boy.”

Castiel blinks, then turns to look his father in the eye. “What?”

“Well, you said yourself that all the trouble you’ve gotten into this summer has been of your own making. And when I asked Michael why he told you not to see Dean, he didn’t come up with a very good answer.”

The corner of Castiel’s lips turns up. “Yeah. That’s what Sheriff Mills said too.”

Chuck smiles back, then leans into his chair, getting comfortable. “Your mother always seems to forget that I didn’t come from old money, like she did. Your grandfather worked very hard his entire life and his bookstore only started paying off when he started opening them up as a chain. I was a teenager by then. And even that was only enough to pay for college and help me start my life.” He pauses, taking a few bites of ice cream. “You know your mother only wants what’s best for you.” When Castiel frowns, Chuck holds up a hand, setting his bowl aside and facing his son. “She does. I mean that. She wants you to have opportunities and to know all the best people. But,” Chuck quickly adds, as Castiel opens his mouth, “But, she may not have realized that she was depriving you of the chance to decide what opportunities you want, and what people you think are the best.”

Castiel’s mouth stays open, this time in shock.

“She wants you to go back to LA with me tomorrow. We’ll stay in my condo there until school starts,” Chuck continues. Castiel frowns again, but this time it’s disappointment.

“I want to stay here.”

“Castiel,” and Castiel has to refrain from rolling his eyes. He’s very tired of being spoken to like a child, of hearing his name in that placating tone. “As much as I understand that you have friends here, you have gotten yourself into a lot of trouble this summer. You can come back next year, and see your friends again, but for now, I think this is the right decision.”

He can come back next summer. A little freer and a little older, and Castiel’s mind is already racing with dreams and hopes for what will come to pass ten months from now.

“And don’t tell your mother this,” Chuck whispers, as he stands and tosses his bowl into a trash can, as Castiel rushes to do the same, “but I’m going to take you to your friend Dean’s house so you can say good-bye.”

Castiel’s breath catches in his throat, until Chuck laughs and pats him on the back, forcing the air out in a rush.

“Will you…” Castiel swallows. “Will you come meet him?” Chuck raises an eyebrow, and Castiel turns his gaze towards his hands, fiddling with the end of his shirt as he quietly continues, “He’s a fan of your books.”

“Really?” Chuck says, and he sounds genuinely surprised.

“You should see his drawings of Kyriel,” Castiel answers, almost shyly. “They’re really good.”

Chuck makes a thoughtful noise, putting a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and guiding him back to the car. “Maybe another time,” Chuck says as they climb inside. “I think you should focus on yourselves for tonight.”

They talk about the new book in between directions to Dean’s house. Chuck is pleased that Castiel approves of Kyriel’s place in the story, and agrees to send a signed copy to Dean once the final version is published.

The porch light is on, but there’s no car in the driveway when Chuck pulls up on the curb outside the Winchester’s home. This is when Castiel realizes that, for all he knows, Dean might be out at the beach, or at the arcade, or the movie theater. Still, since they’re already here, Castiel swallows, and steps out of the car.

The wind has picked up again, and the clouds have helped to darken the sky, blocking the sunset. Castiel’s hair whips around, out of control, as he climbs the front steps and knocks on the Winchester’s front door. He worries, for a few seconds, that maybe he has missed Dean, but then the door opens to reveal a smiling Sam.

“Hi, Cas!” he says, beaming. He’s in his soccer jersey and shorts, and Castiel raises his eyebrows.

“Hello, Sam,” he responds, “did you just get back from a game?”

“Yeah! We won!" Sam cheers, and Castiel smiles, congratulating him. Dean's head pops out of the kitchen entryway, his face lighting up in a grin when he realizes who’s at the door. “Hey!” he yells, “We’re making celebratory sundaes, d’you want one?”

Castiel shakes his head. “I need to get to the resort and pack. I just came to say good-bye.”

And it’s astonishing, how quickly the Winchesters’ faces fall. Sam is practically pouting, his brown eyes round, and Castiel is struck with the image of a forgotten teddy bear. He holds his arms out for a hug, pulling Sam in tight, and makes a silent promise to spend more time with the boy next summer. “I’m glad you tripped over me, Sam,” he mumbles, and Sam laughs in his ear.

“You’ll come back, right?” Sam asks as he pulls away. Dean steps out onto the porch, watching closely as Castiel nods.

“I’ve been told we’ll be back next summer, same as always. Probably around late May.” Castiel glances over his shoulder, where Chuck is still waiting in the car. “And I’m going to sign up for MySpace as soon as I get to school, so Dean and I can stay in touch there.”

“Me too!” Sam pipes up. “I have a MySpace too, it’s samsoccerst- ow!” Sam rubs his ear where Dean has just flicked it, and glares at his brother. “What, I wanna be MySpace friends with Cas too!”

“Do me a favor, short stuff, and go get my sketchbook from the kitchen and bring it out here,” Dean says. “Gimme a minute with Cas.”

Sam frowns, still pouting, but goes to do as his brother asks, mumbling to himself the whole way. Dean pulls the door closed, then turns to meet Castiel’s eyes.

“You really gotta go so soon?” he says quietly. “It’s not even August.”

“I fucked up,” Cas answers. The wind is still going strong, beating at his ears and leaving his hair a hopeless mess, but the rising pink in Dean’s skin actually works for him. “My dad’s here, and he’s going to take me to LA for a couple weeks, until school starts.”

Dean’s eyes dart to the car on the curb, but if he figures out who’s in it, he doesn’t say so. “Is this my fault?” he says instead, and Castiel’s heart clenches. He reaches for Dean’s shoulder, squeezing it.

“No, it’s mine. I snuck out, I was cruel to my mother, and really, I deserve worse. I-” But he finds himself unable to continue when Dean has suddenly pulled him into a warm hug. Dean is solid and strong, and Castiel hugs him back, clinging to him like a rock in a storm. His pulse speeds up, and skips, and jumps; Castiel pushes his initial terror away, and allows himself to enjoy this feeling of safety and acceptance, just for now.

“You deserve better,” Dean murmurs into Castiel’s shoulder, pulling away when the door creaks open. Sam hands the sketchbook to Dean, then quickly steals another hug from Castiel while Dean flips through it.

“Bye, Cas. Don’t make me trip over you next time,” Sam says playfully. Castiel ruffles his hair, then gives him a gentle push towards the door.

“Bye, Sam.”

Sam waves one more time before shutting the door. Dean clears his throat, and now he’s obviously blushing, clutching his sketchbook to his chest.

“I want to give you one of these.”

Castiel blinks. “I still have the one of the Quidditch player, Dean, you don’t have to-”

“No, I drew this one after that. And I want you to have it, and to keep it in your room at school, so you’ll think of me sometimes, even when you’re with all your hoity-toity friends.” Dean is practically glaring at his feet as he speaks, so he misses Castiel’s affectionate smile. “So you won’t forget me.”

“I’d never forget you, Dean.” Castiel has known for a long time now - even if he doesn’t make it back to Sileas next year, Dean and Sam and the Goonies he’s met this summer will be etched in his mind forever. Two months, and he doesn’t feel like the same boy he used to be, and it’s all thanks to these rowdy kids and their open arms.

But Dean doesn’t know that. When he meets Castiel’s eyes, he looks almost confused, or scared. But he opens the sketchbook about halfway through, and carefully starts to tear out a page. The wind makes it difficult, but soon enough, Dean is handing the paper over, carefully averting his eyes, and Castiel gingerly takes it, draws it near to take a good look.

He’s overwhelmed with the urge to kiss Dean again, and quickly smashes it down.

It’s a colored pencil portrait of Kyriel and his angel blade, his wings barely visible - but it’s not really Kyriel, not as he’s described in Chuck’s books. This Kyriel is smaller, leaner, his dark hair a mess, and his eyes are blue. A piercing, glowing, brilliant blue, which seems to take over the entire page. A thought flits through Castiel’s head, _This is how Dean sees me_ , and it takes his breath away.

Because it is. That’s Castiel’s jaw, and his cheekbones, the bow of his lip. A smile spreads across his face, and he lifts his head to share it with Dean, who smiles shyly back.

“Thank you,” Castiel breathes. “I’ll keep it pinned by my bed, I promise.”

“Take a picture and put it on MySpace,” Dean says, laughing softly. Castiel shakes his head, studying the drawing again. He’s hesitant to damage it in any way, but with the wind beating at his face, he doesn’t think he has another choice. Almost as if he can read his mind, Dean rolls his eyes and takes the drawing back, folding it in thirds before he hands it back. “It’s not a fucking Monet,” Dean teases as Castiel takes the drawing back and slips it in his back pocket.

“Value is subjective, Dean.”

“Whatever you say, Spock.”

A car horn blaring from the street makes them both jump, and Castiel frowns down at his father’s car. “That’s for me,” he says with a shrug. Dean meets his eyes before they hug one last time. Castiel hooks his chin over Dean’s shoulder and whispers, “Thank you for everything.”

“Don’t,” Dean murmurs back, and that’s enough. A part of Castiel is sure that, when he draws back, Dean’s lips purposely brush against his cheek, but he refuses to acknowledge the fluttering warmth in his chest at the thought, and thus refuses to meet Dean’s gaze again.

  
( **artwork by[prinzik](http://prinzik.tumblr.com)** )

 

“Good-bye, Dean,” Castiel says, lifting a hand as he takes a few steps down the stairs.

“See you ‘round, Cas,” Dean responds, half-smiling. “We’ll party in a few months, okay?”

“It’s a date,” Cas answers without thinking, then stumbles on another step. “No homo.”

Dean laughs aloud, and the sound carries in the wind, seems to swirl around Castiel and bind them together all the tighter. “No homo, Cas.” He waves, then turns to head back into the house. Castiel takes a deep breath before running down the stairs and diving back into the car. Chuck laughs at him, even as he puts the car in drive and pulls back out onto the road.

“Was that Dean’s brother? The little one?” Chuck asks. Castiel pulls his seatbelt on and fidgets; he’s suddenly cold, like those several minutes subjecting himself to the wind’s abuse have hit him all at once.

“Yeah.” Castiel swallows. “Sam.”

“They seem like decent kids.” Castiel closes his eyes and sighs. His father is just trying to make conversation at this point. “What did Dean give you?”

“A drawing.”

“Oh.” Clearly, Chuck was hoping to hear more, but Castiel won’t play along. “That’s nice.”

“Yeah.”

The car goes silent. Castiel turns and stares out the window, watching the houses and the trees. He’ll be in LA tomorrow, sunshine and sand and heat, big houses and too many people. Then school in September, Long Island, surrounded by kids his own age and station. Maybe he’ll be better at making friends this year, after this summer, or maybe he’ll just spend his free time on MySpace, chatting with kids on the other side of the country. Maybe Lucifer will find him, let him know that he’s okay and happy and Mother shouldn’t cry anymore. Castiel suddenly feels burdened with opportunity, with awareness of how much time is laid out in front of him, and how much he doesn’t know about what’s written on the next page.

He hopes that Lucifer really is safe and happy. He hopes his family stays together. He hopes that Dean gets up the courage to talk to that girl and they go on dates and really like each other. He hopes that next summer comes soon, that his friends will still want to see him.

He hopes the warmth that Dean inspires in him isn’t what he thinks it is, but he doesn’t know for sure. He can’t be certain about any of this.

And that’s terrifying.

 

_Weekend warriors and our best friends_  
 _The writers weren’t kidding about how all good things must end_  
 _Then again some things, some things are far too good  
_ _Some things are far too good to go ahead and let go_

“ **Down and Out** ,” The Academy Is...

**  
  
**END Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what you've just read is part one of a seven part series; part two is currently being written, and all seven parts have been planned. i may or may not write interludes about the school year or other characters in the meantime, but that depends on a) whether or not anyone actually likes this series and is interested in that haha, and b) what they're interested in seeing. come find me [on tumblr](http://someoneworthfinding.tumblr.com) if there's anything you're curious about! updates and info will be posted there as well, if you want to know when part two goes up :)
> 
> part two will be from dean's POV, and will feature more of his family and friends. i'm hoping to have it up within the next couple months - depends on how well this goes!


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